.V. 


SYDNEY    LISLE 

THE  HEIRESS   OF-  ST.    QUENTIN 


"She  went  through  the  park." 


(Page  297) 


SYDNEY  LISLE 


THE   HEIRESS   OF   ST.  QUENTIN 


BY 

DOROTHEA    MOORE 


PHILADELPHIA 

DAVID    McKAY,    PUBLISHER 
610  SOUTH  WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  A   WONDERFUL   GUINEA   .            .           •           •           •           7 

II.  HER   OWN   PEOPLE   .           •           •           .           .           .         1 5 

III.  UPROOTED          .           .           •           •           •           •           •         27 

IV.  THE   FIRST   NIGHT   .,.,..        40 

V.  THE   FIRST   MORNING          •           •           •           •           •         S3 

VI.  LORD  ST.   QUENTIN.           .          •           .           .           .        67 

VII.  MISS   MORRELL          ......         78 

VIII.  ACCOMPLISHMENTS  ......         86 

IX.  THE   HEIRESS-APPARENT    .           .           .           .           •         97 

X.  A   MEETING       ...«••.      105 

XI.  ON   THE   CHURCH   TOWER            .           .           .           *      II J 

XII.    MERRY  CHRISTMAS 136 

xiii.  HUGH'S  BATTLE      .        .        ,        .       .        .152 

XIV.  AT  THE   DEANERY    .           .           •           .           .           .l6l 

XV.  LITTLE   THINGS          .           ,           .           «           .           .170 

XVI.  A   PROPOSAL            .                •           •           •           •           »      iSl 

xvn.  ST.  QUENTIN'S  STORY     .        .        •       •        .    197 

& 


2137375 


6  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XVIII.  THE  CHAIN   BROKEN       .          •          •          •          •      205 

xix.  PAULY'S  BIRTHDAY       .        ,        •        .        .212 

XX.  HUGH   TO  THE   RESCUE            •          .           .           .      22O 

XXI.     FEVER-STRICKEN 231 

XXII.    GIVEN   BACK 245 

XXIII.  WHAT   HUGH   TOLD           .           .           ,           ,           .251 

XXIV.  THE   WAITING   OF  TWO             .           .          •           .261 

KXV.  IN   THE  DEANERY   GARDEN     .           .           .           .270 

XXVI.  A   HOME-COMING    .           .           t           •           •           •      279 

XXVII.  DESDICHADO             ••••••      287 

XXVIII.  CONCLUSION.           •           ,          «          .           .           .294 


SYDNEY    LISLE 


CHAPTER    I 

A    WONDERFUL    GUINEA 

A  RAINY  November  afternoon  was  drawing  to 
its  close.  The  sun  had  set  in  a  haze  of  fog, 
to  which  it  gave  a  fleeting  warmth  of  colour. 
The  street  lamps  were  lit,  and  chinks  of  light 
showed  here  and  there  through  the  shuttered 
windows  of  the  tall,  dingy  houses  in  a  dull 
old  square  not  far  from  Euston  Station. 

Yes,  chinks  of  light  were  coming  from  almost 
every  house,  casting  little  gleams  of  brightness 
on  to  the  wet  pavements  and  rusty  iron  bars 
guarding  the  areas  ;  but  from  one,  the  last  in  the 
square,  considerably  more  was  to  be  seen. 

Uncertain  blobs  of  light,  now  broad,  now 
narrow,  from  the  windows  of  the  dining-room, 
suggested  that  the  curtains  were  being  drawn 
back  impatiently  every  few  minutes,  that  some- 


8  SYDNEY    LISLE 

one  might  look  out  into  the  uninviting  darkness  ; 
and  at  least  three  times  in  one  half-hour  a 
broad  blaze  streaming  out  into  the  night 
assured  the  passers-by  that  the  hall  door  of 
Number  20  had  been  opened  wide,  despite  the 
fog  and  rain. 

If  they  had  paused  at  such  a  moment  they 
might  have  seen  a  slender  figure,  with  brown 
hair  blown  away  from  her  bright  face,  and 
eager  eyes  that  searched  the  familiar  square, 
regardless  of  the  cold,  until  a  call  from  within 
made  her  slowly  close  the  door  and  return  into 
the  brightness  that  looked  doubly  bright  after 
the  darkness  without. 

"  Father  and  Hugh  won't  come  any  the 
quicker  because  you  send  a  draught  right 
through  the  house,  dear ! "  a  pleasant-looking 
girl  of  two  or  three-and-twenty  remarked,  as 
Sydney  came  dancing  and  singing  into  the 
shabby  schoolroom  after  her  third  unsuccessful 
journey  to  the  door ;  "  they  are  hardly  ever  in 
before  half-past  five,  you  know." 

"  It  feels  like  half-past  six,  at  least ! '  cried 
Sydney.  "Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!  I've  never 
known  half-past  five  so  awfully  long  in 
coming ! " 

"  Sydney  !  Sydney ! "  Mildred  said  reprov- 
ingly, "  don't  you 


A    WONDERFUL    GUINEA  9 

saying  to  you  only  yesterday  ?  You  really  must 
give  up  slang  and  schoolgirl  ways,  now  you  are 
going  to  be  eighteen  next  month,  and  to  put 
your  hair  up,  and  leave  off  doing  proper  lessons 
and " 

"  And  become  a  real,  celebrated  authoress ! " 
shouted  Tom,  who  was  despatching  bread  and 
butter  at  the  table  with  a  highly  satisfactory 
appetite.  "  You'll  have  to  mind  your  shaky 
grammar  now,  Syd." 

"  Of  course  I  shan't  be  a  celebrated  authoress 
quite  at  once,"  said  Sydney  modestly.  "  I 
believe  you  are  usually  rather  more  grown  up 
than  eighteen  first,  and  have  a  little  more  ex- 
perience. But  it  makes  one  feel  ever  so  much 
older  when  one  is  really  going  to  be  in  print." 

"  And  when  you've  earned  a  whole  guinea — 
twenty-one  whole  shillings ! "  little  Prissie  con- 
tributed in  an  absolutely  awestruck  voice. 

"  Read  us  the  letter  again,  Syd,"  Hal  de- 
manded, stretching  out  his  long  legs  to  the 
cheerful  blaze.  "  Go  ahead ;  I  really  don't 
think  I  took  it  all  in." 

And  Sydney,  nothing  loth,  produced  that 
wonderful  letter,  which  had  come  in  quite  an 
ordinary  way  by  the  four  o'clock  post  that 
afternoon,  together  with  an  advertisement  about 
a  dairy-farm  for  mother,  and  an  uninteresting- 


IO  SYDNEY     LISLE 

looking  envelope  for  father,  with  "  Lincoln's 
Inn  "  upon  the  back. 

The  outside  of  her  letter  was  quite  ordinary- 
looking  too,  Sydney  had  thought,  when  Fred 
and  Prissie  had  almost  torn  the  envelope  in 
half,  in  their  anxiety  each  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  bringing  it  upstairs  to  her.  Just  a  narrow 
envelope,  with  something  stamped  upon  the 
back,  and  her  name  in  very  scrawly  hand- 
writing— "  Miss  Sydney  Lisle." 

And  then,  when  she  had  turned  it  over 
several  times,  and  all  the  Chichester  children 
who  were  in  had  had  a  look  at  it,  and  tried  to 
guess  what  the  raised  and  twisted  letters  on  the 
back  might  mean,  Sydney  had  opened  it. 

And  there  was  a  typed  letter,  and  inside  the 
letter  a  cheque  for  a  guinea — actually  a  guinea, 
the  largest  sum  Sydney  had  ever  owned  in 
the  course  of  her  seventeen  years !  She 
never  will  forget  the  wonder  and  delight  of 
that  moment ! 

"  It's  a  guinea — twenty-one  whole  shillings !  " 
she  had  told  the  wildly-excited  Madge  and 
Fred  and  Prissie.  "  The  Editor  of  Our  Girls 
has  sent  it  to  me.  He  is  going  to  print  my 
story  in  the  next  week's  issue,  and  he  calls  me 
'  Madam ' !  " 

This  was  the  astounding  news  which   was 


A    WONDERFUL    GUINEA  II 

told  afresh  to  every  member  of  the  Chichester 
family  as  he  or  she  set  foot  inside  the  door, 
and  which  made  the  hands  of  the  schoolroom 
clock  stand  still  to  Sydney,  as  she  waited  for 
Dr.  Chichester  and  Hugh  to  come  in  from  the 
hospital  and  hear  it. 

How  surprised  father  would  be,  and  what  a 
lovely  new  fountain  pen  she  would  buy  for  him  ! 
And  Hugh — Hugh  was  always  so  specially 
pleased  when  anything  nice  happened  to 
Sydney !  She  would  get  Hugh  to  take  her 
out  and  help  her  to  choose  presents  for  every- 
one out  of  that  wonderful  guinea,  which  seemed 
as  inexhaustible  as  Fortunatus's  purse. 

Father  and  mother  (what  a  present  mother 
should  have!),  and  Mildred — Mildred  wanted  a 
new  pair  of  gloves  ;  she  should  have  suede, 
the  very  best.  And  Hal  and  Dolly  and  Tom 
— Tom  should  have  the  bicycle-lamp  he  was 
longing  for,  in  spite  of  his  remark  about  her 
grammar  ;  and  Madge  and  Ronald  and  dear 
little  Freddie  and  Prissie,  oh,  what  a  doll  she 
would  get  for  Prissie !  with  real  eyelashes  and 
hair  that  you  could  brush !  And  old  nurse 
must  have  a  present,  too,  and  Susan  the  cook. 
And  Hugh — Hugh  should  have  the  very  best 
present  of  anybody's,  after  mother. 

So  absorbed  was  she  in  these  thoughts  that 


12  SYDNEY    LISLE 

she  never  heard  the  front  door  open  and  the 
steps,  which  she  had  been  waiting  for  so  long, 
come  down  the  passage  to  the  schoolroom. 

The  watched  pot  had  boiled  the  minute 
that  she  took  her  eyes  from  it  :  Hugh 
Chichester  was  standing  in  the  doorway  look- 
ing at  her. 

"  Oh,  Hugh ! "  She  was  at  his  side  in  a 
moment,  and  pouring  out  the  great  news  in 
words  that  would  hardly  come  fast  enough  to 
please  her. 

He  put  his  hands  upon  her  shoulders  and 
looked  down — such  a  long  way  he  had  to 
look  from  his  six  feet  two  inches — at  her 
glowing  face. 

"  Why,  Syd,"  he  said,  "  that's  first-rate,  isn't 
it?  Well  done!" 

"  Three  cheers  for  Miss  Lisle,  the  celebrated 
authoress ! "  yelled  Tom,  rising  from  his  chair 
and  waving  his  tea-cup.  The  toast  was  re- 
ceived with  enthusiasm. 

"  Only  I  wish  it  were  '  Miss  Chichester,' " 
said  Ronald  ;  "  it's  so  silly  for  old  Syd  to  have 
a  different  name  ! " 

"  Oh,  well,  she  can't  help  that,"  Tom  con- 
tributed ;  "  and  her  father  and  mother  gave  her 
to  us,  so  it's  just  the  same." 

"  Yes,  she's  ours  right  enough,"  said  Hugh, 


A    WONDERFUL    GUINEA  13 

putting  his  arm  round  his  "  little  sister,"  as 
Sydney  Lisle  would  have  called  herself. 

And  then,  quite  suddenly,  Dr.  Chichester's 
voice  was  heard  calling  "Sydney!  Sydney!" 

"  There's  father  calling  ;  mother  must  have 
told  him  ! "  Sydney  cried,  and,  gathering  to- 
gether her  precious  cheque  and  letter,  she 
rushed  out  like  a  whirlwind. 

"  The  pater  is  in  the  drawing-room,  Syd," 
Hugh  called  after  her  ;  "  he  just  took  up  his 
letters  and  went  straight  in  there  to  mother," 
he  added,  for  the  others'  benefit.  Sydney  was 
already  out  of  hearing,  and  only  echoes  of  her 
fresh  young  voice  came  floating  back  to  them, 
as  she  ran  down  the  long  back  passage  and 
up  the  stairs  through  the  hall  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

"  Merrily  !  merrily  shall  I  live  now  !     Merrily  !  merrily ! " 

Mildred  stooped  to  pick  up  the  mending- 
basket  which  Sydney's  energetic  movements  had 
swept  off  her  knee.  "  I  wonder  whether  Sydney 
ever  will  grow  up ! "  she  said. 

"Well,  she's  right  enough  as  she  is,"  said 
Hugh,  at  last  beginning  on  his  long-delayed 
tea. 

Sydney's  merry  voice  was  hushed  as  she  came 
into  the  drawing-room,  for  mother  did  not  like 


14  SYDNEY     LISLE 

boisterous  ways,  and  father  might  be  tired. 
But,  though  her  feet  moved  soberly,  her  eyes 
were  dancing  as  she  held  out  the  precious  letter 
to  the  doctor,  standing  by  the  window. 

He  turned,  and  Sydney  suddenly  forgot  the 
guinea. 

What  made  him  look  so  old  and  strange  ? 
And  surely  mother's  head  was  bent  down  low 
above  her  work  to  hide  her  tears !  Sydney 
stopped  short,  with  an  exclamation  of  dismay. 

Father  grasped  a  letter  in  a  hand  that  shook. 
Vaguely  she  saw  that  the  crumpled  envelope 
had  "Lincoln's  Inn"  upon  the  back.  It  was 
the  letter  which  had  come  with  hers  at  four 
o'clock  that  afternoon  ! 

The  hall  clock  heralded  the  striking  of  six 
by  a  variety  of  strange  wheezing  sounds  :  when 
it  had  slowly  tinged  away  the  six  strokes,  father 
spoke. 


CHAPTER    II 

HER   OWN    PEOPLE 

HALF  an  hour  had  gone  by — the  very  longest 
half  hour  in  Sydney's  happy  life  ;  and  there  was 
silence  in  the  drawing-room. 

Father  had  been  speaking,  but  he  was  silent 
now,  standing  with  his  face  turned  towards  the 
shuttered  windows.  On  the  floor  knelt  Sydney, 
her  head  on  mother's  knee.  She  was  not 
crying — this  calamity  seemed  too  great  for 
tears — tears  such  as  had  been  shed  over  the 
untimely  fate  of  Prissie's  bullfinch,  or  the 
sewing  up  by  father  of  that  dreadful  cut  in 
Ronald's  cheek.  Her  shoulders  shook  with 
suppressed  sobs,  but  no  tears  came. 

"  My  little  girl,"  mother  was  speaking,  with 
a  gentle  hand  on  the  untidy  brown  head  on 
her  knee,  "  my  poor  little  girl !  " 

Sydney  lifted  up  her  piteous  face. 

"  Oh,  mother,  you  will  let  me  stay  your  little 
girl  !   I  can't  go  away.    Oh,  mother,  you  always 
said  I  was  given  to  you ! " 
U 


1 6  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Dr.  Chichester  blew  his  nose  violently,  and 
came  and  sat  down  beside  his  wife. 

"  See  here,  my  little  Sydney,"  he  said.  "  God 
knows  you  can't  cease  to  be  our  child  to  us, 
as  you  have  been  for  these  seventeen  years.  If 
it  were  acting  rightly  to  keep  you,  do  you 
suppose  your  mother  and  I  could  consent  to 
let  our  little  girl  go  from  us  ?  Still,  we  have 
got  to  do  the  right  thing  ;  and  when  your  poor 
young  father  gave  you  to  us,  he  had  no  idea 
of  your  ever  coming  near  the  title.  But  now 
this  accident  to  your  cousin,  Lord  St.  Queritin, 
makes  you  heiress  to  it,  so  your  cousin's  man  of 
business  writes  to  tell  me.  Lord  St.  Quentin 
wants  you,  and,  my  little  girl,  you  must  go." 

"  Couldn't  I  say  I  don't  wan  to  be  a 
marchioness  ?  "  poor  Sydney  asked  despairingly  ; 
"  isn't  there  anybody  else  to  be  one  instead  ?  " 

Dr.  Chichester  shook  his  grey  head  sadly  ; 
Mr.  Fenton's  letter  had  been  clear  enough 
on  that  point.  There  was  a  complete  failure 
of  heirs  male :  and,  in  the  House  of  Lisle, 
the  female  had  the  power,  in  such  a  case,  to 
inherit  land  and  title. 

Dr.  Chichester  knew  this  as  a  fact,  though 
he  had  thought  about  it  very  little.  There 
had  been  nothing  to  bring  it  very  prominently 
before  him  in  the  seventeen  years  that  had 


HER     OWN     PEOPLE  17 

passed  since  he  promised  to  be  a  father  to 
the  little  motherless  daughter  of  his  dying 
patient,  Lord  Francis  Lisle. 

The  doctor  had  come  across  many  sad  things 
in  the  course  of  his  professional  experience, 
but  nothing  much  sadder  than  the  sight  he 
had  seen  one  cold  December  day  in  the  little 
bare  bedroom  of  a  miserable  lodging-house 
off  Pentonville.  He  was  attending  the  more 
urgent  cases  of  a  sick  friend,  and  in  this  way 
came  across  Lord  Francis  and  his  girl  wife. 
She  was  lying  in  the  meagre  bed,  with  her 
young  husband  fanning  her,  and  a  tiny  wailing 
baby  at  her  side. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  that  Doctor 
Chichester's  wife  had  come  to  bring  help  to  her 
husband's  poorer  patients  :  she  went  daily  to  the 
little  dingy  lodging  off  Pentonville,  while  the 
young  wife  lingered,  as  though  loth  to  leave 
the  boy-husband  who  stood  watching  her  with 
great,  sad  eyes.  The  good  doctor  and  his  wife 
soon  heard  their  pitiful  little  story. 

Sydney  Henderson  had  but  just  left  school 
when  she  went  as  governess  to  the  little  boy 
and  girl  of  Lady  Braemuir,  niece  to  the 
Marquess  of  St.  Quentin.  It  was  a  big,  gay 
house  ;  but  the  little  governess,  playing  nursery 
games  with  her  charges,  saw  little  of  the 

2 


18  SYDNEY     LISLE 

company  till  Lady  Braemuir's  youngest  cousin, 
Lord  Francis,  came  to  shoot  the  Braemuir 
grouse  before  joining  his  regiment. 

The  children  were  full  of  "  Tousin  Fwank  " 
before  he  came.  He  had  stayed  at  Braemuir 
six  months  previously.  When  he  came,  the 
reason  of  their  interest  in  his  arrival  became 
speedily  apparent.  Francis  Lisle  was  per- 
fectly devoted  to  children,  with  a  genuine 
devotion  that  made  mothers  beam  upon  him. 

He  was  known  in  the  nurseries  of  many 
a  big  house  :  he  made  himself  at  home  in  the 
schoolroom  of  his  little  cousins. 

Lady  Braemuir  laughed  at  him  and  his 
"childish  tastes,"  but  never  said  a  word  upon 
the  subject  to  the  little  governess,  hardly  more 
than  a  child  herself,  until  a  day  when,  coming 
home  from  a  tennis-party  tired  and  cross,  she 
heard  laughter  issuing  from  the  schoolroom, 
where  Lord  Francis,  who  had  declined  going  to 
the  party,  was  found  sharing  his  little  cousins'  tea. 

Forgetful  of  everything  but  irritation,  Lady 
Braemuir  spoke  cruelly  to  the  girl,  who  knew 
so  little  of  the  duties  of  a  governess.  Lord 
Francis  bore  her  remarks  in  silence  for  a 
minute,  then  the  frightened  appeal  in  the 
childish  eyes  overcame  his  prudence. 

He  went  across  to  the  girl  and  took  her  hand. 


HER    OWN     PEOPLE  1 9 

"  Excuse  me,  Gwenyth,"  he  said  sternly  ; 
"  there  is  no  need  to  say  any  more  upon  this 
subject.  I  am  going"  to  ask  Miss  Henderson 
if  she  will  be  my  wife."  And  he  did. 

"  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  business ! " 
Lady  Braemuir  said.  "  Frank  must  explain 
as  best  he  can  to  Uncle  St.  Quentin." 

Until  that  time  his  fourth  and  youngest  son 
had  been  Lord  St.  Quentin's  favourite — this 
bright,  handsome  boy,  who  had  made  half  the 
sunshine  of  his  home.  He  was  proud  of  him, 
too,  and  looked  to  see  him  do  well  in  the  army, 
and  prove  an  honour  to  the  name  he  bore. 
The  pride  of  the  old  marquess  was  far  greater 
than  his  love. 

"  Going  to  marry  a  clergy-orphan  and  a 
governess  ! "  Frank's  father  cried.  "  Then  you 
won't  get  a  penny  of  mine  to  help  you  make 
a  fool  of  yourself !  Do  it,  if  you  choose  ;  but 
in  that  case  never  darken  my  doors  again ! " 

"  Goodbye,  then,  father,"  said  Lord  Francis ; 
and  he  took  his  hat  and  went. 

The  little  governess  had  no  near  relations, 
and  the  young  couple  were  married  almost 
immediately.  He  was  twenty-two  and  she  was 
eighteen. 

He  gave  up  the  army  and  obtained  a  clerk- 
ship in  a  house  of  business  in  London.  But 


2O  SYDNEY     LISLE 

the  salary  was  small,  and,  strive  as  they  would, 
they  could  not  live  within  their  income. 

She  tried  to  do  a  little  teaching  to  add  to  it ; 
but  her  health  was  delicate  and  pupils  hard  to 
get.  Their  small  reserve  fund  melted  fast, 
though  Lord  Francis  worked  long  after  office 
hours  at  odd  jobs  for  the  sake  of  the  few  extra 
shillings  that  they  brought  him. 

Hard  work  and  poor  living  brought  their 
usual  consequence.  When  Dr.  Chichester 
broke  it  very  gently  to  the  young  husband 
that  there  was  no  getting  better  for  Sydney, 
he  was  aware  that  the  two  would  not  probably 
be  parted  long. 

When  the  young  mother  died  one  grey 
December  morning,  with  her  head  upon  her 
husband's  shoulder,  Mrs.  Chichester  carried 
home  the  baby  to  her  own  fast-filling  nursery, 
where  sturdy  seven-year-old  Hugh  took  at 
once  to  "  his  baby,"  as  he  called  her,  to  dis- 
tinguish her  from  red-faced  Ronald  in  the 
cradle,  whose  advent  had  meant  so  many  "  hush- 
ings  "  at  times  when  he  wished  to  make  a  noise. 

Under  Mrs.  Chichester's  tender  care  the 
little  wizened  baby  girl  grew  fat  and  merry, 
crowing  courageously  even  when  Hugh 
staggered  round  the  room  with  her  held  in 
too  tight  a  clasp. 


HER    OWN     PEOPLE  21 

Her  young  father  used  to  come  round  to 
the  tall  dingy  house  in  the  dull  old  square, 
when  office  hours  were  over,  and  sit  beside 
the  nursery  fire,  watching  Mrs.  Chichester,  as 
she  put  the  babies  to  bed,  with  an  oft-repeated 
game  with  the  ten  bare  pink  toes  of  the  child 
upon  her  knee. 

His  little  daughter  learned  to  know  him,  and 
to  crow  and  laugh  when  he  came  into  the 
nursery  and  held  out  his  arms  for  her.  He 
began  to  look  forward  to  the  time  when  she 
would  learn  to  call  him  "  Father,"  but  that  was 
not  to  be. 

Easter  came  late,  in  the  spring  following 
little  Sydney's  birth,  with  hot  sun  and  bitter 
winds. 

Dr.  Chichester  had  never  had  so  many  cases 
of  pneumonia  to  attend,  and  one  day  a  scrawl 
from  Lord  Francis's  lodgings  told  of  illness 
there.  He  hurried  round  to  find  little  Sydney's 
father  in  high  fever.  There  was  from  the  first 
small  chance  of  his  recovery,  as  his  strength 
was  not  sufficent  to  fight  illness.  He  would 
have  been  altogether  glad  to  go,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  thought  of  his  baby  girl. 

"  My  people  cast  me  off  completely,"  he  said, 
one  day,  when  the  end  was  near,  "  and  they 
are  not  at  all  likely  to  receive  my  child." 


22  SYDNEY     LISLE 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  the  doctor,  "  don't  you 
worry.  We  couldn't  part  with  the  little  lassie 
now  ;  if  I  would,  my  wife  wouldn't.  Give  her 
to  us,  and  she  shall  be  our  child.  She  has  our 
love  already,  and,  God  helping  us !  she  shall 
have  a  happy  home." 

"  I  can't  thank  you,"  Lord  Francis  had  said 
hoarsely  ;  and  the  doctor  had  said  "  Don't ! " 

It  was  in  his  arms  that  Lord  Francis  died 
three  days  later. 

Dr.  Chichester  had  written  to  the  poor  boy's 
eldest  brother,  who  had  now  become  the 
marquess,  telling  him  that  Frank  was  dying  ; 
but  no  notice  had  been  taken  of  the  letter. 
Lord  Francis  was  laid  beside  his  wife  in  the 
cemetery,  and  little  Sydney  grew  from  babyhood 
to  childhood  and  from  childhood  to  girlhood, 
with  nothing  but  the  difference  of  surname  and 
the  occasional  telling  of  an  old  story  with  the 
saddest  parts  left  out,  to  remind  her  that  she 
was  not  a  Chichester  by  birth. 

That  unknown  mother  and  father,  of  whom 
this  real  living,  loving  mother  told  her  at  times 
seemed  part  of  a  story,  not  her  own  life,  and 
the  story  always  ended  with  the  comfortable 
words  :  "  Your  father  gave  our  dear  little  girl 
to  us,  to  be  our  child  for  always  !  " 

I   think  perhaps    Dr.    and    Mrs.  Chichester 


HER    OWN     PEOPLE  23 

forgot  too  very  often  that  Sydney  bore  another 
name  from  theirs,  for  though  the  doctor 
certainly  read  in  the  papers  of  the  tragic 
death  while  mountain-climbing  of  Lord  Herbert 
Lisle,  "  second  son  of  the  late  Marquess  of  St. 
Quentin,"  he  hardly  realised  Lord  Herbert  to 
be  little  Sydney's  uncle  ;  nor  did  her  relation- 
ship occur  to  him  when,  some  four  years  later, 
Lord  Eric,  "  the  third  son,  etc.,  etc.,"  fell  a 
victim  to  malarial  fever  when  travelling  in  Italy. 

The  papers  took  considerably  more  interest 
in  the  matter,  and  there  were  discreetly  hinted 
fears  expressed  in  them  lest  the  old  title  should 
die  out  for  lack  of  heirs.  The  present  marquess 
was  in  feeble  health,  and  his  only  child,  Lord 
Lisle,  unmarried.  Lord  Herbert  had  been  also 
unmarried,  and  Lord  Eric  a  childless  widower. 
Regret  was  expressed  that  Lord  Lisle  possessed 
neither  brother  nor  sister.  It  was  then  the 
doctor  realised  that  in  this  House,  in  default  of 
heirs  male  of  the  direct  line,  females  had  the 
power  to  inherit  land  and  title. 

He  looked  at  long-legged,  short-frocked 
Sydney  with  a  sudden  anxiety,  and  for  a  few 
weeks  actually  glanced  down  the  "  Personal 
and  Social  "  column  of  The  Standard  in  the 
hope  of  his  eye  falling  on — "  A  marriage  has 
been  arranged  and  will  shortly  take  place 


24  SYDNEY     LISLE 

between  Viscount  Lisle,  only  son  of  the 
Marquess  of  St.  Quentin,  and  .  .  .  ,"  some 
damsel  of  high  degree.  But  before  long 
he  forgot  the  matter  in  the  press  of  daily  life, 
and  five  years  had  passed  peacefully  away 
without  anything  happening  to  remind  him  of 
the  House  of  Lisle  or  its  connection  with  his 
little  Sydney. 

And  now,  without  warning,  the  blow  had 
fallen. 

Lord  St.  Quentin,  as  Lord  Lisle  had  become 
through  his  father's  death  four  years  ago,  had 
met  with  a  fearful  motor-accident,  in  which  he 
had  sustained  some  internal  injury,  from  which 
the  doctors  feared  there  was  no  recovery.  He 
might  linger  on  for  months,  but  the  end  was 
certain,  and  he  was  unmarried. 

Sydney  Lisle  had  been  ignored  by  her 
father's  family  for  nearly  eighteen  years  ;  but 
their  man  of  business  had  known  where  to 
find  her.  It  was  he  who  wrote  to  Dr. 
Chichester,  requesting  that  he  would  resign 
his  guardianship  of  Miss  Lisle  into  the  hands 
of  the  cousin  whose  heir  she  had  now  become, 
the  Marquess  of  St.  Quentin. 

"  We  shall  have  to  let  her  go,"  the  doctor 
had  said,  as  he  and  Mrs.  Chichester  read  Mr. 
Fenton's  letter  together.  "  The  child  was 


HER     OWN     PEOPLE  25 

never  put  legally  into  my  charge  :  I  only  took 
her  at  that  poor  boy's  expressed  wish.  Mr. 
Fenton  writes  very  sensibly,  and  tells  me  that 
Lord  St.  Quentin's  maternal  aunt,  Lady 
Frederica  Verney,  is  to  be  at  St.  Quentin 
Castle,  and  will  take  care  of  the  child.  And 
of  course  she  will  have  advantages  we  have  no 
power  to  give  her." 

Mr.  Fenton  proposed  calling  upon  Dr. 
Chichester  that  evening,  and,  if  quite  con- 
venient, would  be  glad  to  see  Miss  Lisle. 
Hence  the  speed  with  which  the  news  had 
been  broken  to  the  girl. 

But  when  the  lawyer  came,  an  elderly  man 
with  old-fashioned  grey  whiskers  and  keen, 
kindly  eyes,  he  had  to  do  without  a  sight  of 
the  poor  little  heiress  to  the  title  of  St.  Quentin. 
For  Sydney  had  gone  to  bed  with  an  over- 
powering headache,  and  was  fit  for  nothing 
but  to  lie  still  in  the  dark,  with  eau-de-cologne 
on  her  forehead  and  mother's  hand,  idle  for 
once,  clasped  tightly  in  both  hers. 

Perhaps  it  was  as  well,  for  she  was  spared 
not  only  the  lawyer's  visit,  but  the  telling  of 
the  dreadful  story  to  the  others — the  children's 
questions,  and  what  she  would  have  minded 
more,  the  sight  of  Hugh's  face,  first  fierce  and 
then  very  white. 


26  SYDNEY     LISLE 

But  she  cried  herself  to  sleep  upstairs,  while 
Mr.  Fenton  in  the  drawing-room  was  inflicting 
on  the  silent  doctor  a  description  of  the 
"  splendid  position  "  to  which  his  little  Sydney, 
the  child  who  had  been  as  his  own  for  nearly 
eighteen  long  years,  had  been  called. 

He  suddenly  broke  in  upon  the  lawyer's 
well-turned  phrases,  leaning  forward  and  speak- 
ing almost  roughly  to  him. 

"  You  tell  me  of  the  age  of  the  title — of 
the  magnificence  of  the  castle — I  don't  want 
to  hear  all  that !  There  is  only  one  thing 
that  I  want  to  know — my  little  girl,  will  they 
be  good  to  her  ?  Will  she  be  happy  ?  " 

Mr.  Fenton  considered  this  question  for  some 
minutes  before  answering  it.  When  he  came 
to  think  of  it,  it  was  not  such  a  very  easy  one 
to  answer. 

"  Miss  Lisle  will  have,  I  trust,  every  reason 
to  be  happy,"  he  replied  at  length  ;  "  every 
advantage  will  be  hers,  and  a  splendid,  yes, 
undoubtedly,  a  splendid  position." 


CHAPTER    III 

UPROOTED 

THE  time  was  rather  after  five  o'clock  on  a 
dark  afternoon  a  week  later. 

The  train  lamps  had  been  lit  two  hours 
ago,  and  cast  a  vivid,  unshaded  light  upon  a 
comfortable  first-class  railway  carriage,  with 
its  well-stuffed  seats,  well-covered  floors,  and 
tasselled  blinds  shutting  out  the  winter  darkness. 

Even  particular  Mr.  Fenton  thought  the 
light  good  enough  to  read  by,  and  was  leaning 
back  luxuriously  in  his  corner  of  the  carriage, 
immersed  in  the  Westminster  Gazette. 

But  Sydney,  who  sat  opposite  him,  could  not 
read.  A  pile  of  magazines  considered  by  Mr. 
Fenton  to  suit  her  age  and  sex  lay  around  her, 
and  she  was  idly  turning  up  the  pages  of  one 
on  her  knee.  But  her  eyes  were  fixed  dreamily 
upon  the  wall  before  her,  and  her  thoughts 
were  leagues  away  from  the  swiftly-moving 
train,  which  was  carrying  her  ever  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  new,  strange  life. 

37 


28  SYDNEY     LISLE 

It  did  not  seem  possible  that  she  could  be 
the  same  Sydney  who,  only  a  week  ago,  had 
been  so  wildly  happy  over  the  letter  from  the 
Editor  of  Our  Girls.  Why,  though  six  copies 
of  the  paper  with  her  story  in  it  had  arrived  for 
her,  "  With  the  compliments  of  the  Editor," 
that  morning,  she  had  not  even  looked  at  them. 
No  one  had  cared  :  all  that  happiness  and  ex- 
citement had  been  years  and  years  ago ! 

And  yet  had  ever  a  week  gone  so  quickly  ? 

The  days  seemed  all  too  short  for  everything 
she  wanted  to  do  in  them.  In  the  end  she 
had  done  little  except  follow  mother  round  the 
house,  from  kitchen  to  larder,  from  larder  to 
store-room,  and  from  store-room  to  linen-cup- 
board. The  idea  of  going  round  to  say  good- 
bye to  all  her  friends  had  to  be  given  up ; 
after  all,  it  was  mother  that  she  wanted 
most. 

At  night  she  and  Dolly,  who  shared  a  room, 
used  to  hold  to  each  other  and  cry  ;  but  in  the 
daytime  Sydney  shed  few  tears.  She  was 
very  quiet  and  wistful-eyed,  but  trustful  of 
father's  judgment,  only  growing  a  little  more 
silent  as  the  days  went  on. 

There  came  a  letter  from  Lady  Frederica 
Verney,  Lord  St.  Quentin's  aunt,  beginning, 
"  Dear  Miss  Lisle,"  which  opening  was  in  itself 


UPROOTED  29 

a  shock,  and  asking  Sydney  if  she  would  be 
ready  to  come  to  Castle  St.  Quentin  on  Tues- 
day next,  under  the  escort  of  Mr.  Fenton.  A 
maid,  whom  Lady  Frederica  had  engaged  to 
wait  upon  her,  would  come  up  to  town  the  day 
before,  spend  the  night  at  an  hotel,  and  meet 
Sydney  at  Waterloo  in  time  for  the  two  o'clock 
train  down  to  Blankshire. 

Nobody  in  the  Chichester  household  could 
quite  see  what  use  the  maid  could  be  to 
Sydney  on  the  journey ;  but,  by  mother's 
orders,  she  wrote  a  little  note  to  Lady 
Frederica,  thanking  her  for  taking  so  much 
trouble,  and  saying  that  she  would  be  ready 
to  go  with  Mr.  Fenton  on  the  day  and  by 
the  train  suggested. 

The  first  copy  of  that  note  had  two  blots 
upon  it,  and  Sydney  had  to  write  it  again. 
Poor  little  heiress !  she  quite  longed  to  hear 
Mildred  say,  "  How  careless !  "  and  "  When 
will  you  grow  up,  Sydney ! "  But  there  were 
no  scoldings  now,  only  a  great  tenderness 
from  one  and  all. 

Then  there  was  packing  to  be  done,  and 
great  discussions  whether  the  frocks  which 
were  to  have  been  "  let  down "  next  month 
when  Sydney's  hair  went  up,  should  be  altered 
now.  Would  Lady  Frederica  expect  to  see 


3O  SYDNEY     LISLE 

Miss  Lisle  in  quite  grown-up  array,  or  would 
skirts  to  her  ankles  pass  muster  ? 

Sydney  took  very  little  interest  in  the  dis- 
cussion, only,  when  pressed,  gave  her  voice  in 
favour  of  leaving  them  alone.  "  She  hated 
everything  that  reminded  her  of  what  was 
going  to  happen !  "  she  said. 

The  children  took  the  prospect  cheerfully 
until  the  very  end.  Nurse  had  enlightened 
them  on  the  grandeur  of  a  title.  "  Miss  Sydney 
would  ride  in  her  own  carnage,  pretty  dear ! 
with  powdered  footmen  on  the  box,  and  silver 
on  the  harness,  and  wear  satin  every  day.  It 
would  do  her  old  eyes  good  to  see  her ! " 

"  You  needn't  be  such  a  silly  ass  about  it, 
Syd,"  Freddie  had  said,  after  one  of  nurse's 
conversations.  "  /  don't  mind  you  being  a  Lady- 
what-do-you-call-it  myself!  You'll  keep  lots  of 
horses  and  ponies  and  merry-go-rounds  in  your 
park,  and  we'll  all  come  and  stay  with  you  and 
ride  'em ! " 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind!"  Hugh 
told  him,  rather  savagely,  and  was  not  greatly 
mollified  by  Freddie's  answer  : 

"  Well,  you  needn't !  But  Syd's  promised  to 
ask  me  and  Prissie,  haven't  you,  Syd  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  want  you  all ! "  poor  Sydney 
had  cried.  "  I  do  hope  Lord  St.  Quentin  will 


UPROOTED  3 1 

be  kind,  and  ask  you  all  to  come  and  stay  soon, 
very  soon ! " 

"No  chance  of  that !  "  Hugh  had  muttered 
beneath  his  breath  ;  and  then  had  put  his  arm 
round  Sydney,  calling  himself  "  a  beast  to  make 
her  cry,  and,  of  course,  they  would  meet  again, 
yes,  very  soon  indeed  !  " 

And  then  had  come  the  last  evening  of  the 
old  happy,  childish  life.  Hugh  had  been  very 
white  and  silent  as  it  drew  on,  and  Mildred's 
eyes  kept  filling  with  tears,  so  that  she  could 
not  see  to  work,  and  Dolly  was  crying  quietly 
in  a  corner,  and  the  boys  gave  up  talking  about 
the  hunters  Sydney  would  keep  and  the  motor- 
cars she  would  drive,  and  relapsed  into  a 
gloomy  silence ;  and  Fred  and  Prissie  realised 
suddenly  what  "  good-bye "  meant,  and  broke 
down  and  howled. 

Perhaps  that  was  rather  a  good  thing,  after 
all,  for  everybody  was  so  busy  comforting  them 
and  making  auguries  of  future  meetings  that 
there  was  not  very  much  time  to  be  miserable. 

And  when  one  is  not  yet  eighteen,  one  is 
sleepy  when  ten  o'clock  comes  round,  however 
wretched  one  may  be  feeling.  Sydney  fully 
expected  to  lie  awake  all  night,  but  she  and 
Dolly  were  both  sound  asleep  when  father  and 
mother  looked,  shading  their  candle,  into  the 


32  SYDNEY     LISLE 

small  room  where  to-morrow  night  one  would  be 
all  alone. 

The  morning  had  been  unreal,  like  a  dream. 

They  all  had  a  kind  of  Sunday-manner 
towards  the  one  who  was  to  leave  them. 
Mother  packed  for  Sydney  ;  Mildred  mended 
her  gloves  so  beautifully  that  one  could  not  see 
where  the  mend  was ;  old  nurse  came  and 
brushed  out  the  mane  of  fine  brown  hair, 
combed  back  loosely  from  the  small  face  and 
tied  at  the  back  of  the  neck  with  ribbon  ;  and 
Freddie  rushed  out  to  the  nearest  flower-shop 
to  buy  her  a  bunch  of  violets  to  wear  on  the 
journey.  He  even  bore  with  calmness  the  hug 
with  which  she  received  them,  though  in  general 
he  objected  strongly  to  such  demonstrations 
from  anyone  but  mother. 

Father  was  to  take  her  to  the  station,  and 
she  had  her  last  words  with  mother  in  her  little 
bedroom. 

"  Be  a  good  girl,  my  darling,  and  try  as  well 
to  be  a  cheerful  one.  I  know  this  is  a  hard 
thing  for  you,  but  God  doesn't  call  us  to  do 
anything  that  is  too  hard  for  us.  Be  brave, 
my  little  Sydney,  and  make  the  best,  in  every 
sense,  of  this  new  life.  God  bless  you,  my 
darling!" 

"  I    will   try,   mother,"    said    poor    Sydney, 


UPROOTED  33 

choking  back  her  tears,  and  then  father  called 
that  the  cab  had  come,  and  mother  put  the 
girl's  hat  straight,  and  down  they  went. 

The  hat  grew  rather  disarranged  again  in 
the  hall  over  the  various  embracings  ;  but 
Sydney  did  not  feel  as  though  that  or  anything 
else  mattered.  Somehow  she  stumbled,  blinded 
with  tears,  to  the  cab,  and  waved  a  farewell 
to  the  crowd  of  dear  faces  round  the  well-known 
door.  Then  father  said  "Right — Waterloo!" 
and  away  they  drove. 

The  hot  tears  rose  again  to  Sydney's  eyes, 
as  she  recalled  the  scene,  and  blurred  the  page 
before  her.  Not  four  hours  since  she  had  said 
good-bye  to  home,  but  oh,  how  long  it  seemed ! 

The  drive  had  been  short  enough ;  Sydney 
thought  she  would  have  liked  to  go  on  driving 
for  ever,  holding  father's  hand,  and  dreamily 
watching  blobs  of  mud  fly  up  against  the  cab 
windows. 

But  Waterloo  was  reached  very  soon,  and 
Mr.  Fenton  was  outside  upon  the  station  steps, 
and  coming  forward  to  hand  her  from  the  cab, 
and  regret  that  she  had  so  dull  a  day  for  her 
journey,  and  wave  forward  a  fashionably-attired 
personage,  whom  Sydney  took  for  some  dis- 
tinguished traveller ;  but  who  was,  it  appeared, 
her  maid,  "Ward." 

3 


34  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Poor  Sydney  faltered,  "  How  do  you  do  ?  " 
in  her  shyest  tone,  and  felt  supremely  young 
and  miserable.  However,  if  Miss  Lisle  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  her  maid,  her  maid  knew 
perfectly  well  what  to  do  with  her.  She  took 
Sydney's  umbrella,  and  inquired  for  her  dressing- 
case.  "  I  haven't  one,"  the  heiress  faltered, 
holding  tight  to  father's  hand. 

Ward  was  too  well-bred  to  be  at  all  surprised. 
She  just  said,  "  Certainly,  Miss  Lisle,"  and 
walked  behind  her  to  the  carriage,  where  Mr. 
Fenton  had  already  ordered  rugs  and  hot-water 
tins.  She  inquired  if  she  could  get  Miss  Lisle 
anything,  and,  on  a  refusal,  remarked  that  she 
was  travelling  in  the  back  part  of  the  train, 
and  would  come  to  Miss  Lisle  at  Donisbro'. 
Sydney  murmured,  "  Thank  you  very  much," 
and  Ward,  with  a  courtly  bend  of  her  head, 
departed. 

Mr.  Fenton  considerately  said  something  rather 
inaudible  about  "papers,"  and  left  father  and 
daughter  for  that  precious  last  five  minutes,  and 
then,  after  all,  Sydney  could  not  find  anything 
to  say,  but  could  only  stand  mutely  holding  to 
the  worn  cuff  of  his  shabby  overcoat  and  looking 
at  him  with  great,  hungry  eyes. 

Dr.  Chichester  had  to  blow  his  nose  more 
than  once  in  the  course  of  that  five  minutes. 


UPROOTED  35 

"  There,  there,  my  dear  !  "  he  kept  on  saying, 
"  things  will  look  brighter  presently.  ...  Be 
a  good  girl  ....  and  write  to  us  ...  you'll 
like  getting  our  letters,  won't  you  ?  .  .  .  And 
I  expect  this  Lady  Frederica  will  spoil  you 
famously,  eh,  my  dear  ?  .  .  .  There,  there ! 
don't  cry  ;  it  won't  be  as  bad  as  you  think,  my 
little  girl ! " 

And  then  Mr.  Fenton  gave  a  nervous  little 
cough  behind  him,  and  said  he  was  afraid  the 
train  was  just  due  to  start,  and  Dr.  Chichester 
apologised  for  blocking  up  the  doorway,  and 
kissed  Sydney,  and  said  to  Mr.  Fenton,  in 
a  rather  husky  voice,  "  Be  good  to  my  little 
girl,  sir." 

And  Mr.  Fenton  looked  a  little  frightened, 
and  said,  "  Yes,  yes,  you  may  rely  upon  me ;  I 
will  make  a  point  of  it."  And  then  a  guard 
yelled,  "  Stand  clear,  sir ! "  and  the  train  was 
moving. 

And  Sydney  had  stood  up  and  waved  her 
handkerchief  till  the  long  platform,  with  the  tall, 
slightly  stooping  figure,  was  quite  out  of  sight 
— the  last  of  home ! 

The  letters  on  the  page  danced  wildly  and 
then  disappeared,  as  Sydney's  meditations 
reached  this  point.  She  got  her  handkerchief 
out  furtively.  It  certainly  was  not  being  very 


36  SYDNEY     LISLE 

brave  or  sensible  to  cry  at  her  age.  She  dried 
her  tears,  and  found  Mr.  Fenton  looking  at  her 
in  an  anxious  manner  over  the  top  of  his 
newspaper. 

He  had  looked  at  her  several  times  while  her 
thoughts  were  travelling  so  far  away.  He  felt 
a  distinct  sense  of  responsibility  with  regard 
to  her,  but  was  handicapped  by  small  know- 
ledge of  girls  and  their  ways. 

He  had  done  all  that  he  could  think  of  for 
her  comfort.  He  had  provided  her  with  a 
perfect  armful  of  ladies'  papers,  wrapped  a 
travelling  rug  about  her  knees,  felt;  her  hot- 
water  tin  to  learn  if  it  were  really  hot,  asked 
her  more  than  once  if  he  should  completely 
close  the  window,  and  seen  to  it  that  she  had  a 
cup  of  tea  at  Donisbro'. 

But  still  he  felt  a  vague  uneasiness — a  fear 
that  he  had  not  done  everything  that  he  might 
have  done.  The  girl's  eyes  were  very  wistful 
— the  dark  grey  Lisle  eyes,  which  he  had 
noticed  with  professional  interest.  They  filled 
with  tears  rather  often.  Mr.  Fenton  felt 
distinctly  uneasy — he  hoped  the  girl  was  not 
going  to  be  hysterical ! 

She  saw  him  looking  at  her,  and  forced  a 
rather  pathetic  little  smile.  Mr.  Fenton  put 
down  his  paper,  folded  it,  and  leaned  forward. 


UPROOTED  37 

"  You  are  not  cold,  I  trust  ?  " 

"No,  thank  you,  not  at  all." 

"  Or  tired  ?  " 

Sydney  considered,  and  thought  perhaps  she 
was  a  little  tired. 

"  We  shall  be  at  Dacreshaw  in  less  than 
twenty  minutes,"  he  informed  her,  looking  at 
his  watch.  She  thanked  him,  and  then  took  a 
sudden  resolution,  "  Mr.  Fenton,  may  I  ask 
you  a  question  ?" 

"  Pray  do,  my  dear  Miss  Lisle." 

Mr.  Fenton  felt  a  little  happier  about  her 
now,  and  his  tone  was  fatherly. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  my  cousin," 
she  said,  looking  up  at  him  appealingly  ;  "  will 
he — will  he  be  kind,  do  you  think  ?  " 

Mr.  Fenton  rubbed  his  hands  together  in 
a  considering  kind  of  way.  "  I  do  not  think 
that  you  will  see  a  great  deal  of  Lord  St. 
Quentin,"  he  said.  "  Since  his  accident  he 
has  lived  entirely  in  two  rooms  on  the  ground 
floor — no,  I  don't  think  you  will  see  him 
very  often." 

"  And  Lady  Frederica  ?  "  ventured  Sydney. 
"  You  told  father  that  Lord  St.  Quentin  is 
thirty-four,  so  I  suppose  his  aunt  is  very 
very  old  ? " 

Mr.  Fenton  never  laughed  outright  at  any- 


38  SYDNEY     LISLE 

thing  a  lady  said  to  him,  but  he  did  smile, 
a  little,  half-apolegetic  smile,  at  Sydney's 
question. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Lisle,  ladies  now-a-days  are 
never  old,  and  it  is  particularly  difficult  to 
connect  that  ungallant  expression  with  Lady 
Frederica.  She  is  quite  a  woman  of  the  world, 
I  assure  you,  and — but  you  will  find  out  all 
about  her  for  yourself.  Ah  !  here  is  the  train 
stopping  at  Dacreshaw  Station.  Now,  my 
dear  young  lady,  we  only  have  a  drive  of 
six  miles,  and  then  we  shall  have  reached 
our  journey's  end  !  " 

A  footman  in  a  long  drab  coat  with  silver 
buttons  was  opening  the  carriage  door  with 
a  touch  of  his  cockade  to  Sydney ;  Ward  was 
hurrying  towards  her  from  the  second-class 
compartments  of  the  train  ;  the  old  station- 
master  was  lifting  his  gold-banded  cap  as  she 
went  by.  Sydney  believed,  in  thinking  over 
her  arrival  afterwards,  that  she  clung  in  a  very 
undignified  way  to  the  arm  Mr.  Fenton  had 
offered  her,  with  his  old-fashioned  gallantry. 
She  was  thankful  when  they  reached  the  shelter 
of  the  brougham  sent  to  meet  her,  and  Mr. 
Fenton  had  handed  her  into  it,  and  desired 
Ward  to  follow  in  a  fly.  He  considerately 
made  no  further  attempt  to  talk  to  her,  and 


UPROOTED  39 

she  leaned  back  luxuriously  on  the  cushions, 
watching  the  reflections  of  the  carriage  lamps 
in  the  puddles,  but  hardly  conscious  of  any- 
thing except  fatigue,  until  the  opening  of  the 
lodge  gates  roused  her  to  the  knowledge  that 
she  had  nearly  reached  the  place  which  it 
seemed  such  a  mockery  to  think  about  as 
home. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    FIRST    NIGHT 

"  AH,  there  you  are ! "  cried  a  gay  voice,  as 
Sydney,  blinking  in  the  lamp-light,  was  led  by 
Mr.  Fenton  into  the  great  hall  of  St.  Quentin 
Castle. 

She  felt  a  butterfly  kiss  on  her  forehead,  and 
then  the  speaker,  a  tall,  beautifully-dressed  lady, 
went  on  talking  to  Mr.  Fenton. 

"  What  abominable  weather !  St.  Quentin 
hardly  thought  you  would  bring  the  child,  and 
has  been  abominably  fidgety  all  day  in  con- 
sequence. You  must  both  be  frozen !  Come 
to  the  fire  !  " 

A  splendid  fire  of  logs  was  burning  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  hall,  which  was  divided  off 
by  tapestry  from  the  entrance.  She  led  the 
way  towards  it,  talking  volubly  the  whole  time  ; 
so  it  was  not  till  they  were  standing  by  the 
cheerful  blaze,  and  Lady  Frederica  had  stopped 
speaking  for  a  moment  to  look  at  Sydney,  that 

40 


THE    FIRST     NIGHT  41 

Mr.  Fenton  had  the  opportunity  of  getting  in  a 
word.  "  How  is  Lord  St.  Quentin?" 

"  Oh,  much  the  same,  I  think,"  she  answered 
carelessly.  "  He  is  up  to-day — I  suppose  he 
wanted  to  see  Sydney.  Dickson  seemed  to 
think  he  wasn't  quite  so  well.  Dickson  is  St. 
Quentin's  man,  my  dear,"  she  added,  turning 
to  Sydney ;  "  a  most  invaluable  creature.  I 
really  don't  know  what  we  should  do  without 
him,  for  St.  Quentin  won't  have  a  trained  nurse. 
So  faddy,  but  he  doesn't  like  them.  But 
Dickson  is  really  quite  admirable  with  him,  and 
doesn't  mind  his  temper — so  fortunate — and 
can  read  to  him,  and  do  all  the  things  which 
otherwise  perhaps  might  be  expected  of  me. 
Yes,  you  are  like  the  family — their  eyes,  hasn't 
she,  Mr.  Fenton  ?  But  you  haven't  much  of  a 
colour,  child ! " 

"  Miss  Lisle  is  very  tired,  I  fear,"  suggested 
Mr.  Fenton,  looking  kindly  at  the  girl.  "  I 
think,  if  I  might  suggest  it,  a  little  rest  before 
dinner.  ...  I  hear  her  maid  arriving  now,  I 
believe." 

"  Well,  come  with  me,  my  dear,  and  see 
your  room,"  said  Lady  Frederica  graciously, 
laying  her  hand  upon  Sydney's  shoulder.  "  Mr. 
Fenton,  be  an  angel,  and  go  in  and  talk  to 
St.  Quentin.  He  is  in  the  library  and  as 


42  SYDNEY    LISLE 

irritable  as  can  be.  I  really  can't  go  near  him 
till  he's  in  a  better  humour.  Come,  Sydney." 

They  went  together  up  the  wide,  shallow 
staircase,  guarded  at  its  foot  by  two  highly 
realistic-looking  stuffed  bears — shot  by  the 
present  marquess  in  the  Rockies  some  years 
ago,  Lady  Frederica  explained,  in  answer  to 
the  girl's  shy  admiration. 

She  had  not  time  to  look  at  the  magnificent 
collection  of  sheathed  rapiers  which  adorned 
the  walls  of  the  long  corridor  through  which 
they  next  passed.  Lady  Frederica  hurried  her 
along,  remarking  that  she  would  have  plenty  of 
time  for  studying  all  "  those  tiresome  old  historic 
treasures  "  by-and-by. 

"  The  castle  is  simply  full  of  them,"  she  said. 
"  All  the  Lisles  have  been  collectors  ;  it  is  one 
of  their  many  irritating  ways.  I  hope  you 
haven't  any  hobby,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Hobby "  was  a  nurw  word  in  Sydney's 
vocabulary,  and  she  hardly  knew  how  to  answer 
the  question.  But  a  reply  was  the  one  thing 
Lady  Frederica  never  wanted,  and  she  went  on 
talking  in  her  clear,  high-bred,  rather  monoton- 
ous voice  until  they  reached  the  first  of  Sydney's 
rooms. 

"  They  all  open  from  one  another,"  she 
said,  as  the  girl  looked  round  with  dazzled  eyes. 


THE    FIRST     NIGHT  43 

"You  like  them?  That's  right.  St.  Quentin 
told  me  to  get  everything  you  would  require. 
Your  bedroom  is  the  innermost,  you  see.  Then 
comes  your  morning-room,  where  you  can  do 
what  you  like  without  risk  of  being  interfered 
with.  And  this  last  is  your  school-room — 
yours,  too  ;  till  you  share  it  with  a  governess. 
How  old  are  you,  by  the  way?" 

"  I  shall  be  eighteen  on  the  thirty-first  of 
December,"  Sydney  answered. 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  shall  let  you  off  regular 
lessons,"  Lady  Frederica  said ;  "but  you  must 
have  masters  for  accomplishments,  I  shall 
tell  St.  Quentin  so.  I  don't  suppose  you  learnt 
much  with  that  doctor — what  was  his  name  ? — 
Chichester  ?  Gracious,  child,  how  white  you 
are  !  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  be  delicate ! 
One  invalid  in  the  castle  is  quite  enough — 
especially  one  with  a  temper  like  St.  Quentin's. 
I'll  send  your  maid  to  you,  and  you  had  better 
rest  a  little  before  dressing  for  dinner.  We 
dine  at  eight.  Au  revoir,  my  dear ! " 

And  Lady  Frederica  flitted  away,  leaving 
Sydney  in  her  new  domain. 

She  took  off  her  coat,  hat,  and  gloves,  and 
put  them  tidily  away,  then  knelt  down  by  the 
bright  fire  blazing  in  the  dainty  tiled  grate  of 
her  bedroom  and  looked  round  it. 


44  SYDNEY     LISLE 

It  was  certainly  a  contrast  from  the  little 
bare  room  she  and  Dolly  shared  at  home, 
where  there  was  no  space  for  anything  that 
was  not  strictly  needful.  This  room  was  more 
like  a  drawing-room  than  a  bedroom,  Sydney 
thought. 

The  prevailing  colour  was  a  delicate  rose 
pink  ;  the  carpet,  soft  as  velvet  to  her  feet, 
was  rose  and  green  ;  the  window-curtains  fell 
to  the  floor  in  long,  soft  folds  of  rose-silk  fringed 
with  gold. 

An  easy-chair  drawn  invitingly  to  the  fire 
was  covered  in  brocade  of  the  same,  and  the 
satin  quilt  upon  the  lofty  bed  was  rose  and 
gold. 

"  It  is  much  too  beautiful  for  me !  "  thought 
Sydney,  and  went  through  the  curtained  door 
into  what  Lady  Frederica  had  called  her 
morning-room. 

A  soft  moss  green  was  the  prevailing  colour 
here  ;  Sydney's  weariness  was  forgotten  as  she 
darted  from  the  dainty  writing-table  with  its 
silver-topped  ink-stands  and  chased  blotting- 
case,  to  the  small  but  perfect  piano  standing 
across  one  corner  of  the  room. 

She  felt  as  yet  too  much  a  visitor  to  open 
it  and  try  its  tone,  as  she  would  have  liked 
to  do,  and  the  next  moment  had  forgotten  the 


THE     FIRST     NIGHT  45 

desire,  and  had  flung  herself  upon  her  knees 
beside  the  book-case,  green  and  gold  to  match 
her  room,  and  full  of  story-books ! 

She  took  out  two  or  three  at  random,  and 
"dipped"  luxuriously,  half-kneeling,  half-sitting, 
crumpled  anyhow  upon  the  floor.  A  whole 
book-case  full  of  new  books  to  be  read  !  She 
was  a  lucky  girl.  A  picture  flashed  back  vividly 
into  her  mind  of  the  "children's  book-case" 
at  home,  where  every  book  had  been  read  and 
re-read  times  out  of  number,  and  was  like  an 
old  friend.  Oh,  if  she  could  only  transport 
all  these  lovely  things  into  the  shabby  school- 
room at  home  !  How  Mildred  would  love  the 
rose-and-gold  bedroom — dear  Millie,  who  cared 
for  pretty  things  so  much,  and  hardly  ever  had 
any  ! 

And  oh,  what  raptures  Dolly  would  have 
gone  into  over  that  exquisite  little  piano ! — 
Dolly,  who  had  been  known  to  cry,  yes,  really 
cry,  when  trying  ineffectually  to  wile  some 
music  out  of  the  ancient  yellow  keys  of  theirs 
at  home.  And  how  Madge  and  Fred  and 
Prissie  would  have  loved  some — just  half-a- 
dozen — just  one,  of  this  profusion  of  new  books 
before  her! 

It  is  poor  fun  to  enjoy  things  all  alone !  A 
great  tear  splotched  down  upon  the  blue-and- 


46  SYDNEY    LISLE 

gold  cover  of  the  book  that  Sydney  was  holding, 
and  left  a  mark  upon  it.  She  dried  it  hastily, 
and  got  up  from  the  floor,  just  as  Ward  came 
into  the  room. 

"  Would  you  wish  to  dress,  ma'am  ?  It  is 
half-past  seven." 

"  Yes,  please,"  the  girl  answered,  wondering 
if  she  ever  would  have  courage  to  address  this 
dignified  person  familiarly  as  "  Ward." 

It  did  not  seem  very  possible  at  present. 

Sydney  did  not  own  a  real  evening  dress, 
but  Ward  managed  the  plain  white  nuns- 
veiling  frock  which  she  and  Dolly  had  had 
just  alike  for  the  Christmas  parties  last  year 
so  as  to  make  it  look  very  nice. 

It  proved  to  be  a  little  short.  "  I  think 
perhaps  I  had  better  let  a  tuck  down  before 
to-morrow  night,"  Sydney  suggested  meekly, 
noticing  how  much  slender  black  ankle  showed 
beneath  it. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  before  Ward 
answered  her  with  studied  calm,  "I  do  not 
think  that  will  be  necessary,  ma'am." 

She  was  dressed  in  good  time,  and  stood 
looking  rather  forlornly  at  her  maid,  who  was 
on  her  knees,  unpacking,  with  a  quite  ex- 
pressionless face,  the  clothes  mother  had  put 
in  so  carefully. 


THE    FIRST     NIGHT  47 

"  Lady  Frederica  sits  in  the  gold  drawing- 
room  this  week,  ma'am,"  Ward  said,  guessing 
the  reason  of  the  girl's  perplexity  ;  "  the  second 
door  to  the  right  of  the  inner  hall.  Shall  I 
come  with  you  to  the  stairs,  ma'am  ? "  she 
added,  rising. 

Sydney  thanked  her  warmly.  "  I  am  a  little 
afraid  of  losing  myself  here,"  she  said  shyly, 
at  which  Ward  smiled  condescendingly,  and 
said  that  "  Miss  Lisle  would  soon  be  quite 
accustomed  to  the  Castle." 

She  took  the  girl  to  the  head  of  the  wide 
stairs,  reiterated  her  instructions,  and  leit 
Sydney  to  go  down  the  stairs  and  through 
the  sombre  splendour  of  the  hall,  alone. 

Although  lit  by  many  antique  hanging  lamps, 
its  immensity  made  it  rather  dark,  and  the 
suits  of  armour  standing  in  the  corners  had 
a  very  ghost-like  appearance.  Sydney  crossed 
the  black  polished  floor  as  fast  as  its  slipperi- 
ness  would  allow,  and  was  about  to  open  the 
second  door  on  the  right,  according  to  her 
maid's  instructions,  when  a  voice  spoke,  not 
loud,  but  imperatively,  "Are  you  Sydney?" 

She  turned,  and  saw  that  a  long  couch  on 
wheels  was  drawn  up  near  the  great  log  fire, 
and  that  the  man  upon  it  had  moved  his  head 
and  was  looking  at  her. 


48  SYDNEY     LISLB 

She  crossed  the  hall  again  and  came  to  him, 
putting  her  hand  diffidently  into  his.  "  So  you 
are  Sydney  ? "  Lord  St.  Quentin  said. 

What  Sydney  saw,  as  she  returned  his  steady 
gaze,  was  a  tall  man,  lying  very  nearly  flat, 
his  head  only  just  raised  by  a  small  pillow. 
His  hair  was  dark  brown  like  her  own  and  his 
eyes  grey  ;  but  there  the  likeness  ceased. 
The  face  was  thin,  the  mouth  cynical,  and  the 
sharp  line  drawn  down  the  middle  of  his 
forehead  made  it  strangely  different  from  the 
girl's  smooth  one. 

What  he  saw  was  a  slight  girl  dressed  in 
white,  looking  taller  than  she  really  was  by 
reason  of  her  slenderness,  with  a  cloud  of  soft 
brown  hair  framing  her  face  and  hanging  in 
a  long  tail  down  her  back  ;  and  earnest,  pitying, 
dark  grey  eyes  fixed  upon  him.  They  looked 
at  each  other  in  silence  for  a  full  minute  ;  then 
St.  Quentin  released  her  hand  and  pointed  to 
a  low  chair  by  his  side. 

"  You  had  a  cold  journey  ?  " 

"  Not  very  cold,"  said  Sydney  shyly. 

There  was  a  pause.  St.  Quentin  was  frown- 
ing. Sydney  felt  that  she  ought  to  originate 
a  subject  in  her  turn. 

"  I  hope  you  are  better  to-day,  Lord  St. 
Quentin  ?  "  she  got  out  with  an  effort. 


THE     FIRST     NIGHT  49 

Lord  St.  Quentin  stopped  frowning,  in 
surprise. 

"  Thanks,  I'm  all  right,"  he  said  shortly  ; 
then  added  with  half  a  smile,  "  Drop  the 
'  Lord,'  please — we  are  cousins ! " 

"  Well,  Sydney,  so  you  and  St.  Quentin  have 
made  acquaintance  already  ? "  Lady  Frederica 
exclaimed,  coming  down  the  stairs  as  the  gong 
began  to  sound  with  a  roar  like  distant 
thunder.  "  How  clever  of  you  to  find  each 
other  out !  How  are  you  now,  my  dear  boy  ? 
Dickson  told  me  you  were  '  rather  low  ' :  how 
I  hate  that  expression  in  the  mouth  of  servants  ! 
It  always  means  ill-tempered.  Now,  my  maid 
can  never  say  I'm  '  low,'  at  all  events.  I 
make  a  point  of  never  giving  way  to  low 
spirits.  Ah,  Mr.  Fenton,"  as  the  old  lawyer 
came  into  the  circle  of  fire-light,  "  here  you 
are ! — punctual  as  usual !  I  have  just  been 
telling  St.  Quentin  he  shouldn't  give  way 
to  low  spirits  ;  a  mistake,  isn't  it  ?  I  suppose 
you  will  dine  in  the  library,  St.  Quentin  ? 
Shall  we  see  you  again  to-night?" 

"  You  might  come  to  me  in  the  library 
for  five  minutes  after  dinner,  if  you  will,  Aunt 
Rica,"  he  answered  rather  moodily.  "  I  won't 
keep  you.  Good-night,  Sydney." 

"  Good-night,  Cousin  St.  Quentin,"  the  girl 

4 


5O  SYDNEY     LISLE 

said.  Her  cousin's  thin  hand  took  hers  for 
a  minute,  and  she  followed  Lady  Frederica 
in  to  dinner. 

Sydney  thought  the  meal  unending.  The 
long  table,  the  enormous  room,  the  powdered 
footmen  all  combined  to  make  her  feel  strange 
and  very,  very  homesick.  But  the  dessert  had 
been  partaken  of  at  last,  and  Lady  Frederica 
looked  at  the  girl.  "  Shall  we  come,  my  dear  ? 
You'll  join  us  presently  in  the  gold  drawing- 
room,  Mr.  Fenton?" 

The  old  lawyer  held  the  door  open,  and  the 
two  passed  out  to  the  drawing-room. 

"  Pull  a  chair  up  to  the  fire,  child,"  said  Lady 
Frederica  with  a  shiver.  "  I  suppose  I  must 
go  to  St.  Quentin  :  he  probably  wants  to  give 
me  some  further  directions  about  you.  I  shan't 
be  long  :  my  dear  nephew  is  not  by  any  means 
good  company,  I  can  assure  you  ! " 

And  her  grey  and  silver  draperies  swept  out 
of  the  gold  drawing-room. 

Sydney  drew  a  chair  to  the  fire  as  she  had 
been  told,  and  sat  staring  into  it  with  dreamy 
eyes.  Nine  o'clock.  At  this  time  they  all 
would  be  in  the  drawing-room  at  home,  except 
the  little  ones  in  bed.  Father  would  very  likely 
be  reading  aloud  to  mother  something  that  had 
interested  him  ;  Madge  making  doll's  clothes 


THE    FIRST    NIGHT  51 

in  her  special  corner  of  the  room,  with  a  good 
many  whispered  appeals  to  Mildred  over  some 
tiresome  garment  that  would  not  come  right, 
and  Hugh  and  Hal  would  be  playing  one  of 
their  interminable  games  of  chess — supposing 
Hugh  had  not  been  called  out  to  see  some  sick 
person.  Just  one  chair  would  be  empty,  that 
little  dumpy  cane  one  in  which  she  usually  sat, 
which  creaked  so  much  as  to  make  a  never- 
ceasing  joke  about  "  Sydney's  prodigious 
weight  " !  Sydney's  head  sank  low,  and  the 
fire  grew  blurred  when  she  thought  about  that 
little  chair.  Was  it  only  last  night  she  had 
been  in  the  dear  drawing-room  at  home  with 
all  of  them  ? 

When,  ten  minutes  later,  the  coffee  and  Mr. 
Fenton  came  noiselessly  together  into  the  gold 
drawing-room,  the  old  lawyer  found  the  little 
heiress  leaning  back  in  the  great  arm-chair 
by  the  fire  asleep. 

He  stood  looking  at  her  for  a  moment,  and 
then  rang  the  bell. 

"  Send  Miss  Lisle's  maid  to  her  room  at 
once,"  he  ordered,  and  then  gently  woke  her. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,  my  dear  young  lady ; 
it  is  only  I,"  he  said.  "  I  was  compelled  to 
rouse  you,  because  I  am  certain  you  ought  to 
go  to  bed.  I  have  sent  your  maid  to  your 


52  SYDNEY    LISLE 

room,  and  I  strongly  advise  you  to  go  there  im- 
mediately without  waiting  for  Lady  Frederica's 
return.  I  will  explain  everything  to  her." 

Sydney  was  only  too  glad  to  go.  "  Thank 
you  very  much,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand 
to  Mr.  Fenton.  He  watched  her  go  slowly 
up  the  wide  staircase  before  returning  to  the 
drawing-room,  where  he  was  joined  in  a  minute 
by  Lady  Frederica. 

"  Went  to  sleep  while  you  were  talking  to 
her,  did  she?"  she  laughed.  "  Dear  me,  Mr. 
Fenton,  how  abominably  prosy  you  must  have 
been !  Oh,  it  was  before  you  came  in  from  the 
dining-room,  was  it  ?  Fancy  the  child  finding 
us  so  wearying,  even  in  our  absence  !  I  must 
tell  St.  Quentin  that :  it  will  make  him  shriek ! " 

But  when  she  had  tripped  back  into  the 
library  where  her  nephew,  his  brows  drawn 
very  close  together,  was  endeavouring  to  read, 
Lord  St.  Quentin  did  not  seem  to  find  the 
information  she  had  come  to  bring  him  so 
particularly  funny. 

11  Poor  little  girl ! "  was  all  he  said. 


CHAPTER    V 

THE    FIRST    MORNING 

BRIGHT  sunshine  greeted  Sydney  when  she 
awoke  on  the  first  morning  in  her  new  home. 

It  fell  softly  through  the  shading  blinds  upon 
the  dainty  fittings  of  her  luxurious  room,  and 
on  Ward,  as  she  stood  beside  her  with  a  tray, 
containing  a  fairy-like  tea-set  for  one. 

"  Oh,  what  is  the  time  ?  "  cried  poor  Sydney 
in  dismay.  Surely  she  had  overslept  herself, 
and  Ward  was  bringing  her  a  rather  unsub- 
stantial breakfast  in  bed ! 

"  Eight  o'clock,  ma'am,"  the  maid  answered 
softly,  placing  the  tray  on  a  little  table  by  her 
bedside.  "  Would  you  wish  me  to  draw  the 
blinds  up,  or  shall  I  leave  them  down  till  you 
get  up?" 

"  What  time  is  breakfast  ?  "  Sydney  asked. 

"  Lady  Frederica  breakfasts  in  her  bedroom, 
Miss  Lisle,"  said  Ward  ;  "  and  so  of  course 
does  his  lordship  since  his  accident.  Mr. 
Fen  ton  commonly  likes  his  about  ten  o'clock 

53 


54  SYDNEY    LISLE 

when  staying  here,  I  have  heard.  He  break- 
fasts downstairs.  Lady  Frederica  thought  you 
would  wish  to  take  yours  in  bed." 

"  I  would  much  rather  get  up,"  said  poor 
Sydney.  "  I  am  not  at  all  tired  now,  and  I 
get  up  at  seven  at  home." 

Ward  never  seemed  to  be  surprised  at 
anything. 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  what  time  would  you  wish  to 
get  up  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  When  I  have  drunk  my  tea,  please,"  the 
girl  said ;  "  that  is — unless  you  think  Lady 
Frederica  would  mind  ?  " 

A  very  faint  smile  did  part  Ward's  lips  for 
a  moment,  but  only  for  a  moment.  "  I  am 
sure  her  ladyship  would  wish  you  to  do  exactly 
as  you  please,  ma'am,"  she  said,  and  withdrew 
to  desire  a  housemaid  to  bring  up  Miss  Lisle's 
hot  water. 

"  Exactly  as  I  please  ;  this  is  an  odd  place  !  " 
thought  Sydney,  as  she  sipped  her  tea  out  of 
a  Dresden  china  cup  and  ate  the  wafer  bread 
and  butter  provided. 

She  took  heart  of  grace  and  rejected  Ward's 
services  over  her  morning  toilet :  the  sunshine 
had  given  her  fresh  courage,  and  she  felt  quite 
a  different  being  from  the  tired-out,  homesick 
Sydney  of  last  night. 


THE     FIRST     MORNING  55 

She  was  dressed  by  a  quarter  to  nine,  and 
stood  looking  from  her  window  at  the  green 
park,  with  its  great  bare  spreading  trees  below 
her.  Only  a  quarter  to  nine !  What  should 
she  do  with  herself  till  breakfast  time  ?  At 
this  hour  at  home,  breakfast  would  be  a  thing 
of  the  past,  and  father  and  Hugh  have  gone 
off  to  the  hospital.  And  mother  would  have 
done  a  hundred  and  one  things  before  settling 
down  to  teaching  the  girls ;  and  the  boys 
would  have  been  off — the  younger  ones  to 
school,  and  Hal  to  King's  College.  And 
Sydney  herself  would  have  been  practising, 
or  hearing  Prissie  practise,  on  that  old  shabby 
school-room  piano.  How  odd  it  felt! 

Five  minutes  passed  by  very  slowly  ;  Sydney 
went  and  knelt  down  by  the  fire  that  the 
housemaid  had  lit  when  she  brought  the  water. 
One  hour  and  ten  minutes  before  breakfast- 
time — perhaps  more,  if  Mr.  Fenton  were  late  ! 

"  I  know ! "  she  cried,  rising  quickly  to  her 
feet,  and  hurrying  into  thick  boots,  coat  and 
scarlet  tam-o'-shanter.  She  would  go  out  and 
explore  the  park  till  ten  o'clock. 

She  ran  downstairs  to  the  great  hall,  meeting 
nobody  until  she  came  out  on  the  splendid 
flight  of  marble  steps,  which  a  man  was 
cleaning. 


56  SYDNEY     LISLE 

He  got  up  from  his  knees  and  stared,  when 
he  saw  a  young  lady  march  out  of  the  double 
doors,  with  the  evident  intention  of  going  for 
a  walk. 

"Good-morning!"  Sydney  cried  brightly, 
as  she  ran  down  the  steps,  leaving  the  man 
still  staring  after  the  slight  figure  and  red  cap. 

"Well,  I'm  blowed!"  he  said  at  last,  re- 
turning to  his  work. 

The  park  was  rather  wet,  but  Sydney's 
boots  were  thick,  and  she  scorned  the  plain, 
uninteresting  road  along  which  she  had  driven 
last  night.  She  cut  across  the  grass  at  right 
angles,  running  at  intervals  to  keep  herself 
warm,  and  startling  the  deer  not  a  little. 
Never  having  seen  these  animals  outside  the 
Zoological  Gardens,  she  was  much  excited  by 
their  discovery,  and  made  many  unsuccessful 
attempts  to  coax  them  to  her. 

By-and-by  she  came  to  the  boundary  of  the 
park.  There  was  no  gate,  but  a  convenient 
gap  in  the  hedge  ;  through  which  she  climbed 
without  difficulty. 

As  she  dropped  from  the  gap  into  the  road 
beneath,  she  became  aware  that  somebody  a 
good  deal  smaller  than  herself  was  going  to  do 
the  same  thing  on  the  other  side  of  the  road. 
Through  a  thin  hedge  topping  a  high  grassy 


"Sydney's  dash  forward  was  not  a  bit  too  soon." 


(Page  59) 


THE    FIRST    MORNING  59 

bank  appeared,  first,  two  small  kicking  legs, 
and  then  something  fat  and  roundabout  in  blue, 
surmounted  by  a  crop  of  red  curls.  Sydney's 
dash  forward  was  not  a  bit  too  soon,  for  the 
creature  rolled  down  the  bank  at  a  prodigious 
pace,  alighting  fortunately  in  her  arms.  It 
wriggled  from  her  in  a  moment,  and  regained 
its  feet.  Then  Sydney  saw  that  it  was  a  round- 
faced,  red-haired  little  boy,  dressed  in  a  navy 
blue  serge  smock,  just  now  extremely  muddy. 

He  stopped  to  pull  on  the  wet  strapped  shoe 
which  the  mud  in  the  ditch  had  nearly  sucked 
from  his  foot,  pulled  down  his  belt  about  his 
bunchy  little  petticoats,  and  observed  affably, 
-Hullo,  big  girl!" 

"You  have  scratched  your  face,  dear,  getting 
through  that  hedge,"  Sydney  said,  looking  him 
over;  "doesn't  it  hurt  you?" 

The  small  boy  beamed  all  over  in  a  con- 
descending smile. 

"  Scwatches  don't  hurt  boys  \ "  he  assured  her, 
with  a  strong  emphasis  upon  the  last  word. 

"  What  is  your  name,  dear  ?  "  she  asked  him. 

"  I'm  Pauly  Seaton,"  he  explained  con- 
fidentially, "  and  I'm  going  to  be  five  quite 
soon.  Big  girl,  shall  we  go  home  now,  'cause 
I'm  daddy's  boy,  and  he  doesn't  like  me  to  be 
lostened  ?  " 


6O  SYDNEY     LISLE 

He  put  his  hand  into  Sydney's  quite  con- 
fidingly. "  But  where  do  you  live,  Pauly 
dear  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Vicarwidge,  of  course,"  he  said  ;  "  come  on, 
big  girl ! " 

They  went  a  few  steps  together ;  then  Pauly 
stopped,  with  an  expression  of  dismay  on  his 
round  baby  face.  "  Oh,  bover,  big  girl,  my 
shoe  is  stuck  like  my  teef  in  toffee !  " 

Sydney  knelt  down  to  investigate,  and  ex- 
tract the  little  shoe  which  had  stuck  so  tightly 
in  the  mud.  But,  alas !  in  the  tug  Pauly  had 
given  it  the  frail  bottom  had  come  off. 

Sydney  picked  up  the  sodden  shoe  and  put 
it  in  his  hand. 

"  Get  on  my  back,  Pauly,  and  I'll  carry  you." 

Pauly  liked  this  idea,  and  shouted  gleefully, 
as,  with  much  effort  upon  Sydney's  part,  his 
sturdy  little  form  was  hoisted  to  her  shoulders, 
and  his  muddy  toes,  one  shoeless,  put  into  her 
hands. 

"  Oh,  Pauly,  you  are  wet !  "  she  cried.  "  I 
expect  your  mother  will  put  you  into  dry  socks 
the  minute  you  get  home." 

"  Me  and  daddy  haven't  got  no  muvvers," 
Pauly  said.  "  There's  '  In  Memorwy  of 
Wose  '  in  the  churchyard.  God  wented  and 
wanted  muvver,  that  was  why.  Gee-up,  horse ! " 


THE    FIRST     MORNING  6 1 

Poor  Sydney !  the  "  geeing-up  "  was  not  so 
easy.  Pauly  was  no  light  weight.  Her  face 
grew  scarlet  and  her  breath  a  little  gasping. 
She  sincerely  hoped  the  vicarage  was  not  far 
away,  and  was  not  sorry  when,  as  they  turned 
into  its  drive,  a  tall  figure  came  hurrying  to 
meet  them. 

"  Daddy  !  "  shouted  Pauly  gleefully,  and,  as 
Mr.  Seaton  hastened  to  remove  the  burden 
from  the  tired  horse,  he  explained :  "  Got 
frew  the  hedge  of  the  kitchen  garden,  daddy, 
and  fell  down  a  gweat  big  way,  and  there  was 
this  gweat  big  girl  there,  and  she  caught  me 
in  her  gweat  big  hands ! " 

The  Vicar  reached  round  his  small  son,  to 
give  his  hand  to  Sydney,  with  a  smile  that  she 
liked. 

"  You  seem  to  have  been  very  good  to  my 
little  scamp,"  he  said,  "  and  I'm  afraid  you're 
quite  done  up  with  carrying  the  great  lump — 
that's  what  you  are,  Pauly !  Come  in  and  have 
some  milk  or  something ;  and  then,  if  you'll  tell 
me  where  you  live,  I'll  drive  you  home." 

"  I  am  Sydney  Lisle,"  she  answered  shyly, 
"  and  I  have  just  come  to  live  at  St.  Quentin 
Castle." 

They  had  reached  the  pretty  gabled  Vicarage 
by  now.  Mr.  Seaton  looked  at  her  with  a 


62  SYDNEY     LISLE 

kindly,  amused  scrutiny  as  he  held  the  door 
open  for  her.  "  So  you  are  Miss  Lisle  ?"  was 
all  he  said. 

A  maid  was  sweeping  the  hall.  "  Would 
you  fetch  a  glass  of  milk  and  some  cake, 
Elizabeth?"  the  Vicar  said.  "  Now,  Miss  Lisle, 
shall  I  leave  you  to  rest  and  refresh  yourself  in 
the  dining-room,  or  will  you  like  better  to  come 
to  Pauly's  nursery,  while  I  put  him  into  dry 
clothes  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  nursery,  please  !  "  said  Sydney. 

Pauly  led  the  way  up  the  steep  uncarpeted 
nursery  stairs,  guarded  at  the  top  by  a  wicket 
gate,  and  would  have  liked  to  do  the  honours 
of  "my  wocking  horse"  and  "my  own  bed," 
but  his  father  quietly  checked  him. 

"  Go  into  the  night  nursery  and  take  your 
shoes  and  socks  off,  Pauly.  Now,  Miss  Lisle, 
sit  down  in  that  chair,  please.  Here  comes 
the  milk — that's  right." 

He  put  the  milk  and  cake  on  a  small  table 
beside  her,  and  retired  into  the  night  nursery 
to  find  dry  clothes  for  his  little  son.  Sydney 
drank  the  milk  and  ate  a  noble  slice  of  cake, 
finding  herself  really  very  hungry  now  that  she 
had  time  to  think  about  it. 

Mr.  Seaton  redressed  his  little  son  with  a 
speed  which  showed  he  was  not  playing  nurse 


THE     FIRST     MORNING  63 

for  the  first  time,  and  the  two  came  back  into 
the  day  nursery,  the  Vicar  carrying  sundry  little 
muddy  garments  to  hang  on  the  high  nursery 
guard.  He  talked  very  pleasantly  to  Sydney 
all  the  time,  asking  where  she  had  lived  before, 
and  whether  she  knew  Blankshire  at  all. 

"  No,  we  usually  go  somewhere  near  London 
for  our  holidays,"  she  explained.  "  You  see, 
there  are  a  good  many  of  us." 

"  You'll  miss  them,"  said  the  Vicar,  noticing 
the  little  tremble  in  her  voice,  as  she  spoke  of 
home.  "  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  rather  dull 
for  you  here  at  first.  But  you  will  make 
your  own  interests  before  long.  Life  has  a 
knack  of  growing  very  interesting,  you  will 
find,  wherever  we  are  called  upon  to  live  it." 

Sydney  had  heard  things  like  this  in  sermons 
before,  but  somehow  the  fact  that  this  was  said 
to  her  in  the  homely  surroundings  of  a  nursery 
made  it  strike  her  more.  Certainly  Mr.  Seaton 
himself  did  not  look  like  a  man  who  found 
life  uninteresting.  She  smiled  and  looked  up 
frankly. 

"  They  are  all  so  kind,"  she  said,  "  and 
say,  '  Do  what  you  like.'  But  it  doesn't  seem 
that  there  is  anything  to  do." 

"  Plenty,"  said  the  Vicar  briskly,  "  and 
you'll  find  it  if  you  look  for  it.  I  wonder 


64  SYDNEY     LISLE 

whether  Lord  St.  Quentin  would  allow  you 
to  take  a  little  class  in  the  Sunday  School, 
for  one  thing?" 

"  Oh,  I  should  just  love  to ! "  Sydney  cried. 
"  Mother  always  said  I  might  when  I  was 
eighteen,  and  my  birthday  is  next  month. 
Only  I  don't  know  a  great  deal." 

She  noticed  that  the  Vicar  did  not  comment 
upon  her  acceptance. 

"  Thank  you  very  much  for  your  willingness 
to  help,"  he  said.  "  I  will  write  to  your 
cousin." 

"  I  am  certain  he  won't  mind,"  the  girl  said 
happily.  "  He  is  very  kind,  you  know,  and 
told  Lady  Frederica  to  put  the  loveliest  things 
into  my  rooms.  But,  please,  I  think  I  ought 
to  be  going  now,  for  Mr.  Fenton  has  his 
breakfast  at  ten." 

The  Vicar  laughed.  "  I  am  afraid  Mr. 
Fenton  will  have  breakfasted  alone  this  morn- 
ing, owing  to  my  little  scamp  here.  Do  you 
know  what  the  time  is?" 

"No."     Sydney  was  rather  frightened. 

"  Ten-thirty." 

She  sprang  up  with  a  cry  of  dismay.  "  Oh, 
how  dreadful !  I  must  run  ! " 

"  You  won't  do  any  such  thing ! "  said  the 
Vicar  firmly.  "  I  am  going  to  drive  you  to 


THE     FIRST     MORNING  65 

the  Castle  in  my  pony-cart,  and  explain  your 
disappearance." 

"I  come,  too!"  Pauly  cried,  scrambling  up 
from  the  centre  of  the  hearth-rug  in  a  great 
hurry. 

"  No,"  said  the  Vicar  gravely.  "  I  told  you 
not  to  go  into  the  kitchen  garden  alone,  Pauly. 
You  must  be  obedient  before  daddy  takes 
you  out  with  him." 

Pauly  did  not  cry,  as  Sydney  half  expected. 
He  twisted  his  fingers  in  and  out  of  his  belt 
in  silence  for  a  minute  ;  then  observed  defiantly, 
"  Bad  old  Satan  come  along  and  said,  '  Pauly, 
go  into  the  kitchen  garden.' " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Vicar  gravely,  "  but  what 
ought  Pauly  to  have  done?" 

Pauly  slowly  stumped  across  the  room,  and 
stood  looking  wistfully  from  the  barred  window. 

"  Wis1  I'd  punc'ed  his  head!"  came  in  a 
subdued  murmur  from  the  bunchy  little  figure 
in  the  sunshine. 

Mr.  Seaton  smiled  and  stroked  the  red  hair 
gently.  "  Next  time  Pauly  will  say  '  No,' 
that  will  be  better." 

Then  he  opened  the  door  for  Sydney,  and 
they  went  out  together. 

The  Vicar  brought  round  the  little  cart  with 
its  shaggy  pony.  Sydney  got  in,  and  they 


I 


66  SYDNEY    LISLE 

drove  off  From  the  nursery  window  a  fat 
hand  was  waving  to  them  with  an  affectation 
of  great  cheerfulness.  "  Poor  little  chap ! " 
said  Pauly's  father. 

Mr.  Fenton  was  waiting  about  rather  anxi- 
ously on  the  steps  of  the  Castle,  and  came 
forward  with  a  look  of  unmistakable  relief 
as  he  recognised  Sydney. 

He  shook  hands  with  the  Vicar  and  thanked 
him  warmly  for  "bringing  home  Miss  Lisle," 
but  Sydney  noticed  that  he  did  not  ask  him 
to  come  in.  He  said  that  neither  Lady 
Frederica  nor  Lord  St.  Quentin  were  yet 
down,  but  the  servants  had  been  much  alarmed 
by  Sydney's  disappearance.  She  and  Mr. 
Seaton  between  them  explained  its  cause ; 
Mr.  Fenton  reiterated  his  thanks,  and  the 
Vicar  got  into  his  pony-cart  and  drove  away, 
with  a  shy  hand-shake  from  Sydney  and  a 
request  that  he  would  give  her  love  to  little 
Pauly. 

"Was  it  wrong  to  go  out  for  a  walk?" 
Sydney  asked,  as  she  and  the  old  lawyer  went 
into  the  Castle. 

"Oh  no,  not  wrong,  my  dear  young  lady!" 
he  assured  her,  "  only  perhaps  rather  inju- 
dicious." 


CHAPTER    VI 

LORD    ST.    QUENTIN 

BY  the  time  she  had  been  a  week  at  Castle 
St.  Quentin,  Sydney  felt  as  though  the  old 
happy  life  in  London  were  years  away. 

She  did  not  even  look  like  the  same  Sydney, 
in  the  dainty  frocks  with  which  Lady  Frederica 
replaced  the  clothes  mother  had  packed  so 
carefully. 

"  Miss  Lisle  has  not  a  thing  fit  to  wear, 
my  lady,"  had  been  Ward's  verdict,  when 
Lady  Frederica  made  inquiries  into  the  state 
of  Sydney's  wardrobe,  and  Lady  Frederica's 
own  dressmaker  in  London  received  a  lengthy 
order  marked  "  Immediate  "  that  very  night. 

The  frocks  were  all  ankle-length.  "  We 
will  not  put  your  hair  up  till  you  are  presented 
in  March,"  said  Lady  Frederica ;  but  she  only 
laughed  when  Sydney  threw  out  a  timid  sug- 
gestion that  perhaps  in  that  case  the  old  frocks 
might  do  till  she  came  out.  All  these  new 

*>  5 


68  SYDNEY     LISLE 

clothes  for  four  months'  use  only  :  it  hardly 
seemed  possible  to  believe. 

Sydney's  wardrobe  replenished,  Lady 
Frederica  took  her  education  in  hand  with 
undiminished  energy.  And  the  girl,  although 
of  no  very  studious  disposition,  quite  hailed 
the  idea  of  lessons.  Something  to  do  would 
be  indeed  a  comfort,  was  the  conclusion  she 
arrived  at  by  the  end  of  the  first  week.  Writing 
had  lost  its  zest  now  she  had  unlimited  time 
in  which  to  do  it,  and  even  story-books  palled 
when  read  all  day.  Solitary  walks  were  most 
decidedly  forbidden  by  Lady  Frederica,  when 
she  heard  of  the  girl's  adventure  on  the 
morning  after  her  arrival ;  and  when  Mr. 
Fenton  left  the  Castle,  as  he  did  in  a  day  or 
two,  her  life  was  lonely  indeed. 

St.  Quentin  was  worse,  and  confined  to  his 
room  for  the  whole  week,  seeing  no  one  but 
his  man  and  Dr.  Lorry ;  and  Lady  Frederica 
was  never  down  until  the  two  o'clock  luncheon. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  a  long  letter  of  loving 
understanding  counsel  from  mother,  Sydney 
would  have  been  more  than  half  inclined  to 
give  up  the  early  rising  and  other  old  home 
ways  which  made  the  mornings  seem  so  long. 
But  mother  must  not  be  disappointed  in  her, 
and  she  thought  of  Mr.  Seaton's  words,  and 


LORD     ST.     QUENTIN  69 

determined  to  try  hard  to  make  the  interests 
which  did  not  seem  inclined  to  make  them- 
selves. 

I*  was  on  a  dull  afternoon  a  week  after 
her  arrival  that  she  met  the  doctor  as  he  came 
from  the  library,  where  St.  Quentin  had  been 
reinstalled  for  the  first  time  since  the  night 
she  came. 

Dr.  Lorry  was  an  elderly  man,  very  kind- 
hearted  and  a  teller  of  good  stories  by  the 
yard.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  Sydney  with 
a  smile. 

"  Come  in  and  see  your  cousin  for  a  little 
while  this  afternoon,  my  dear  young  lady," 
he  suggested.  "  I  think  a  visitor  would  do 
him  good  to-day." 

Sydney  followed  him  obediently  into  the 
library — a  handsome  but  rather  sombre  room, 
where  what  little  of  the  wall  could  be  seen  for 
well-filled  book-cases  was  covered  by  Spanish 
leather,  and  the  furniture  wore  the  same  sober 
tint  of  dark  brown. 

St.  Quentin's  couch  was  drawn  up  near  the 
fire :  he  looked  considerably  more  ill  now 
she  saw  him  in  daylight.  His  face  was  very 
worn  and  his  eyes  sunken. 

"  Well,  Lord  St.  Quentin,  I've  brought  you 
a  visitor,  you  see,"  the  doctor  said,  drawing 


JO  SYDNEY     LISLE 

the  girl  forward.  "  She  is  not  to  chatter 
you  to  death — are  you  a  great  talker,  Miss 
Lisle  ? — but  just  to  quietly  amuse  you.  Good- 
bye, I'll  look  in  again  to-night." 

And  he  went  out  quietly,  with  an  encouraging 
nod  of  his  head  to  Sydney. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  her  cousin.  "  There,  by 
the  fire ;  you  look  cold.  You  needn't  stay 
above  five  minutes  if  you  find  it  bores  you." 

"  But  I  want  to  stay,"  Sydney  said.  Her 
glance  was  the  direct  one  of  a  child.  "  I  have 
been  wanting  to  see  you  to  say  thank  you 
for  all  those  lovely  things  you  have  given  me — 
in  my  rooms,  you  know.  And  Lady  Frederica 
says  I  am  to  have  a  horse,  and  riding  lessons 
too.  It  is  awfully  good  of  you  !  " 

She  pulled  up  in  confusion  at  the  "  awfully" 
which  had  escaped  her,  but  her  cousin  did  not 
seem  to  notice  it. 

"  Oh,  you  like  the  notion  of  a  horse  ;  that's 
right,"  he  said.  "  I  wrote  up  to  Braemuir, 
who's  a  pretty  fair  judge,  to  choose  one  suited 
for  a  lady,  and  to  send  it  down.  You  ought 
to  look  rather  well  on  horseback." 

He  looked  critically  at  the  slight  figure 
dressed  in  soft  green,  touched  with  creamy 
lace,  before  him.  "  I'm  glad  Aunt  Rica  didn't 
make  you  put  your  hair  up  yet,"  he  said. 


LORD    ST.    QUENTIN  71 

"  At  home  they  said  I  must  put  it  up  on  my 
eighteenth  birthday,"  Sydney  volunteered. 

"  At  '  home  '  "  ?  questioned  the  marquess, 
with  raised  eyebrows. 

"  I  mean  in  London,"  she  explained,  speaking 
rather  low.  "  Mother  always  said  I  must  not 
keep  it  down  after  I  was  eighteen,  but  Hugh 
didn't  want  it  to  go  up." 

"Who  is  Hugh?"  St  Quentin's  tone  was 
rather  sharp ;  Sydney  wondered  if  he  were 
in  pain. 

"  Hugh  .is  the  eldest  of  us,  but  not  a  bit 
stuck-up  or  elder-brotherish  because  of  that. 
He  is  such  a  dear  boy  and  very  clever  too. 
Why,  he  has  an  appointment  at  the  Blue-Friars' 
Hospital  that  most  men  don't  get  till  they're 
ever  so  old,  over  thirty !  And  Hugh  is  so  nice 
too,  at  home  ;  he  and  I  are  special  friends " 

Sydney  could  not  understand  what  made  her 
cousin's  voice  sound  so  unpleasant  as  he 
interrupted  her  with  another  question  : 

"  How  old  is  this  paragon  ?  " 

"  Twenty-four  last  birthday,  Cousin  St. 
Quentin."  She  no  longer  felt  inclined  to 
enlarge  upon  Hugh's  merits. 

"  Does  he  write  to  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  he  does." 

'*  Don't  answer   his   letters,    if   you   please. 


72  SYDNEY    LISLE 

I  have  no  doubt  your  Chichesters  are  excellent 
people,  but  a  correspondence  between  you  and 
this  young  paragon  is  most  unsuitable." 

The  colour  flamed  into  Sydney's  face.  "  I 
don't  know  what  you  mean,  Cousin  St.  Quentin," 
she  cried  hotly,  "  and  Hugh  will  think  me  so — 
so  horrid  if  I  never  answer  his  letters  !  " 

The  cynical  smile  deepened  round  his  mouth. 
"  The  sooner  you  understand  that  playing  at 
brother  and  sister  is  out  of  the  question  now 
the  better,"  he  said  quietly. 

Sydney  set  her  teeth  to  keep  the  tears  back 
and  stared  hard  into  the  fire.  She  would  not 
cry  before  St.  Quentin,  but  his  tone,  even  more 
than  his  words,  made  her  desperately  hot  and 
angry.  There  was  silence  in  the  room  for  full 
five  minutes  :  then  the  footman  came  in  with  a 
note  for  Lord  St.  Quentin. 

He  opened  it,  and  read  it  half  aloud  with  a 
sneer. 

"  What's  this  .  .  .  '  Miss  Lisle  .  .  .  help  in 
the  Sunday  School  .  .  .  small  class  .  .  .'  (con- 
found the  fellow's  insolence  !)  '  subject  of  course 
to  my  approval  .  .  .'  (He  won't  get  that,  I  can 
tell  him !)" 

"  Oh,  Cousin  St.  Quentin  ! "  Sydney  cried, 
springing  to  her  feet,  "is  it  about  my  class 
in  the  Sunday  School?  I  told  Mr.  Seaton 


LORD   ST.    QUENTIN  73 

I  should  like  to  take  one.  You  will  let  me, 
won't  you  ?  " 

"  Nonsense!  You  know  nothing  about  it!" 
he  assured  her.  "  You  wouldn't  like  it,  and 
I  don't  choose  you  to  be  always  after  parsons. 
Sit  down  there  at  the  writing-table — you'll  find 
pens  and  paper — and  decline  his  offer,  please  ! " 

"  But  I  promised  that  I  would,  Cousin  St. 
Quentin ! " 

"  Well,  now  you  find  you  can't !  Write — • 
'  DEAR  SIR.'  " 

Sydney  wrote  obediently,  but  with  rebellion 
in  her  heart. 

"  I  regret  to  find  myself  unable  to  take  a 
class  in  your  Sunday  School,"  dictated  Lord 
St.  Quentin.  "  Yours  faithfully,  SYDNEY  LISLE." 

But  Sydney  paused  before  the  "  yours 
faithfully  "  and  faced  round  with  troubled  eyes. 

"He  was  very  kind  to  me,  and  that  sounds 
rather  rude,  doesn't  it  ?  Mayn't  I  just  put 
something  else  before  the  signature,  for  polite- 
ness ?  " 

"  Oh,  say  your  brute  of  a  cousin  won't  allow 
you  to  do  anything  you  want,"  the  marquess 
suggested,  with  a  rather  mocking  smile. 

Sydney  reddened,  and,  without  remark, 
finished  the  letter  that  he  had  dictated,  Then 
she  directed  the  envelope  to  "  The  Rev.  Paul 


74  SYDNEY     LISLE 

Seaton,"  and,  rising,  put  it  in  her  cousin's  hand. 
"  I  couldn't  say  a  thing  like  that,  you  know," 
she  said,  and  he  noticed  that  the  childish  figure 
had  a  dignity  of  its  own.  "  Shall  I  ring  for 
one  of  the  footmen  to  take  it  to  the  Vicarage  ?  " 
she  added. 

"  I  will,"  said  her  cousin  rather  sharply, 
reaching  out  his  arm.  His  couch  stood  rather 
farther  off  from  the  bell  than  usual,  and  he 
turned  a  little  on  his  side  in  the  attempt  to 
reach  it.  The  next  moment  Sydney  saw  him 
fall  back  with  a  stifled  exclamation  of  suffering, 
while  his  face  grew  ashen  and  his  brows 
contracted.  She  sprang  forward.  "  Ring 
twice  for  Dickson,"  he  gasped,  "  and  go ! " 

She  pealed  the  bell  furiously,  then,  with  a 
remembrance  of  father,  looked  on  the  little 
table  beside  him. 

Yes,  sure  enough,  there  was  the  bottle  with, 
"  Five  drops  to  be  taken  in  water  when  the 
pain  is  acute." 

The  water  was  there  all  ready.  She  held 
it  to  her  cousin's  lips,  raising  his  head  carefully. 
"  It  is  the  stuff  in  the  blue  bottle,  Cousin  St. 
Quentin.  Dickson  said  you  took  it  when  the 
pain  was  bad." 

When  Dickson  came  hurrying  in,  breathless 
with  his  run  from  the  distant  servants'  quarters, 


LORD   ST.    QUENTIN  75 

he  found  his  master  lying  still  with  closed 
eyes,  while  Sydney  dabbed  his  forehead  with 
cologne  and  water. 

"Bless  me,  miss,  that  ain't  no  good!" 
gasped  the  servant,  forgetting  manners  in  the 
exigency  of  the  moment.  "  That  blue  bottle, 
pleast,  miss,  and  the  water ! " 

The  strained  look  was  passing  from  St. 
Quentin's  face,  and  he  opened  his  eyes  again. 
"  It's  all  right,  Dickson,  Miss  Lisle  has  already 
given  me  the  dose,  as  well  as  any  doctor. 
Don't  stay  now,  child ;  Dickson  will  look 
after  me." 

Sydney  did  not  see  her  cousin  again  that 
evening,  but  Dr.  Lorry  looked  in  and  reported 
him  a  little  better. 

And  the  next  afternoon,  as  Sydney  was 
driving  through  the  village  by  Lady  Frederica's 
side  in  the  great  landau,  Mr.  Seaton  came  up, 
and  Lady  Frederica  stopped  the  carriage  to 
speak  to  him. 

Sydney,  remembering  the  note  she  had  so 
unwillingly  written  him,  grew  scarlet  and 
shrank  back  into  a  corner  of  the  carriage,  but 
he  greeted  her  and  Lady  Frederica  as  though 
nothing  disagreeable  had  occurred. 

Presently  he  asked,  turning  to  the  girl, 
"  How  is  Lord  St.  Quentin  to-day  ?  I  thought 


76  SYDNEY     LISLE 

it  so  good  of  him  to  write  himself  and  explain 
why  you  cannot  help  us  in  the  Sunday  School 
at  present." 

"  Did  Cousin  St.  Quentin  write  to  you  ?  " 
Sydney  cried,  finding  it  hard  to  believe  her 
ears. 

"  Yes,  I  heard  from  him  late  last  night, 
explaining  what  great  things  you  are  going 
to  do  in  the  way  of  education,  Miss  Lisle. 
Naturally  he  does  not  wish  you  to  undertake 
anything  more  just  now." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Lisle  will  be  presented  in  March, 
and  till  that  time  we  are  going  to  educate  her," 
broke  in  Lady  Frederica.  "  I  wish  we  were 
not  such  a  frightful  distance  from  London,  for 
I  suppose  the  Donisbro*  masters  will  have  to 
do,  unless  I  carry  her  off  straight  to  town, 
which  would  be  much  the  best  thing  to  do  ! " 

"  Only  of  course  you  would  not  wish  to  leave 
Lord  St.  Quentin  in  his  present  state  of  health," 
said  Mr.  Seaton  rather  pointedly,  and  Lady 
Frederica  sighed  and  said  she  supposed  not, 
but  these  lingering  illnesses  were  very  in- 
convenient. 

Then  the  carriage  drove  on. 

As  soon  as  they  reached  the  Castle,  Sydney 
ran  to  the  library,  knocked,  and  went  in.  St. 
Quentin  seemed  immersed  in  a  book.  She 


LORD    ST.    QUENTIN  77 

went  and  stood  beside  his  couch,  her  hands 
behind  her. 

"  Cousin  St.  Quentin,"  she  said,  "  we  met 
Mr.  Seaton,  so  I  know  now  that  my  note  did 
not  go  to  him." 

"  It  went  into  the  fire,"  said  St.  Quentin, 
without  raising  his  eyes  from  his  book.  "  Your 
handwriting  isn't  precisely  a  credit  to  the 
aristocracy,  you  know.  You'd  better  do  some 
copies  before  you  turn  into  a  marchioness." 

But  Sydney  was  not  to  be  put  off  by  his 
tone. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  I  was  cross,"  she  said 
earnestly.  "It  was  ever  so  good  of  you  to 
write  him  a  nice  note  instead ! " 

St.  Quentin  went  on  reading  in  silence  for 
a  minute,  then  looked  up. 

"  If  you  are  going  to  remain,"  he  said,  "  and 
pray  do,  if  you  feel  inclined,  shut  the  door  and 
don't  talk  nonsense!" 


CHAPTER    VII 

MISS    MORRELL 

A  COMPANION-GOVERNESS  was  procured  for 
Sydney,  the  daughter  of  the  vicar  of  one  of 
the  churches  near  Donisbro'.  The  girl  was 
unfeignedly  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a  com- 
panion, even  of  the  rather  advanced  age,  as  it 
seemed  to  her,  of  three-and-twenty. 

She  grew  quite  excited  over  the  arranging 
of  Miss  Osric's  room,  and  would  have  liked 
to  decorate  it  with  some  of  the  pretty  things 
from  her  own.  But  this  Lady  Frederica  would 
not  allow. 

"  You  can  have  anything  you  like  for  her  in 
reason,  child,"  she  said,  "  without  stripping 
yourself.  What,  you  don't  think  there  are 
enough  pictures  in  her  room  ?  Well,  you  may 
drive  in  with  Ward  to  Dacreshaw  this  after- 
noon, and  get  some,  if  you  like.  There  is  a 
good  print-shop  there.  Put  the  bill  down  to 
St.  Quentin." 

78 


MISS    MORRELL  79 

But  that  was  not  necessary,  for  Sydney 
received  a  summons  to  the  library  before  she 
set  out  that  afternoon. 

Her  cousin  laid  his  pen  down  on  her 
entrance ;  she  saw  he  had  been  signing  a 
cheque. 

"  I  haven't  started  you  on  a  dress-allowance, 
Sydney,"  he  said,  "  because  you  had  better  let 
Aunt  Rica  rig  you  out  at  present.  She  knows 
how  to  do  the  thing,  you  see.  But  you'll  want 
some  money  to  play  with,  so  there's  your  first 
quarter."  He  held  out  the  cheque. 

Sydney  gasped.     "It  isn't  for  me,  is  it?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  ;  there,  put  it  in  your  purse. 
You  can  change  it  at  the  Bank  at  Dacreshaw, 
where  I  hear  you're  going.  Good-bye,  don't 
spend  it  all  on  chocolates ! " 

For  the  first  time  since  her  arrival  at  St. 
Quentin  Castle,  Sydney  felt  almost  happy. 
What  Christmas  presents  she  could  get  now 
for  every  one  at  home !  Should  she  choose 
them  at  Dacreshaw,  or  wait  till  she  went  to 
Donisbro'  for  the  lessons  in  drilling  and  de- 
portment she  was  to  take  with  a  very  select 
class  of  girls  in  the  cathedral  city  ? 

She  sat  in  a  happy  dream  all  through  the 
drive,  and  only  roused  herself  when  she  reached 
the  print-shop. 


So  SYDNEY     LISLE 

The  Castle  carnage  was  known,  and  the 
owner  of  the  shop  came  forward  at  once  to 
serve  the  young  lady,  leaving  the  customer  he 
had  been  attending — a  tall,  graceful  girl,  some 
years  Sydney's  senior,  with  great  calm,  clear 
eyes. 

Sydney  found  the  shopman  most  obliging. 
He  bowed  repeatedly  ;  he  seemed  willing  to 
reach  down  every  picture  in  the  shop  for  her 
to  look  at,  regardless  of  the  trouble,  and  he 
asked  with  real  anxiety  after  the  health  of  "  his 
lordship,  Lord  St.  Quentin." 

The  tall  girl  had  come  rather  near  to  them 
to  examine  a  picture  Sydney  had  laid  down. 
She  started  at  the  shopman's  question,  looked 
irresolutely  for  a  minute  at  the  younger  girl, 
then  came  across  to  her  with  a  smile. 

"  Miss  Lisle,"  she  said,  "  you  will  not  know 
me,  but  I  know  Lady  Frederica  very  well, 
and  have  stayed  at  Castle  St.  Quentin.  I  am 
Katharine  Morrell." 

"  Mr.  Fenton  told  me  about  you,"  Sydney 
said,  brightening  instantly.  Speaking  to  an- 
other girl  felt  like  meeting  a  countryman  in  a 
strange  and  savage  land.  "  Do  you  live  near?" 
she  added  eagerly. 

"  Some  distance  off;  at  Donisbro',"  she  said; 
"  my  father  is  the  Dean  of  Donisbro'  Cathedral. 


MISS    MORRELL  8 1 

I  hear  you  are  coming  to  the  calisthenic  class 
at  Lady  Helmsley's.  Perhaps  I  shall  see 
something  of  you,  for  I  am  taking  a  little 
cousin  to  it." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  will  be  there,"  Sydney 
said,  brightening  still  more.  The  girl  had  a 
lovely  face,  she  thought,  its  slight  look  of  sad- 
ness only  adding  to  its  beauty.  She  was  like 
some  bygone  saint. 

"  I  am  busy  choosing  a  picture,"  said  Miss 
Morrell,  "  and  you  are,  of  course,  on  the  same 
errand.  I  am  executing  a  commission  for  my 
father  ;  perhaps  you  are  for  your  cousin  ?  By 
the  way,  how  is  he  ?  " 

"He  has  been  worse,  but  seems  better  these 
last  few  days,"  Sydney  answered,  rather  doubt- 
fully. "  Dr.  Lorry  never  tells  us  much  about 
him." 

"  They  never  do,"  Miss  Morrell  said,  in  a 
low  voice.  "  We  are  left  to  eat  our  hearts  out 
in  ignorance,  because,  forsooth,  they  think  a 
woman  cannot  bear  the  truth.  Oh,  how  much 
easier  it  would  be  if  we  might  know,  and  care, 
and  be  miserable  if  we  wished ! " 

Sydney  felt  vaguely  puzzled.  Miss  Morrell 
had  spoken  quietly,  but  her  voice  vibrated,  as 
though  the  words  she  spoke  were  almost  forced 
from  her,  and,  as  she  turned  away  at  the 


82  SYDNEY    LISLE 

shopman's  approach,  the  girl  saw  her  hands 
were  shaking.  But,  after  that  outburst,  her 
manner  returned  to  its  usual  calm,  and  she 
busied  herself  with  real  kindness  in  helping 
Sydney  in  that  difficult  thing — choice. 

Four  charming  prints  in  sepia  of  well-known 
pictures  were  at  length  decided  on,  and  the 
man  managed  to  fit  them  with  frames  from  his 
store,  while  Sydney  was  giving  her  opinion  on 
the  comparative  merits  of  "  The  Angelus  "  in 
sepia  or  black-and-white  for  the  benefit  of  her 
new  friend. 

"  You  must  come  and  have  some  tea  with  me 
at  Grayson's  before  you  drive  home,"  said  Miss 
Morrell,  when  both  had  paid  for  their  pictures, 
and  Sydney's  had  been  placed  in  the  brougham. 
"  Oh,  yes,  you  must :  you  cannot  possibly  be 
back  at  the  Castle  till  long  past  tea  time,  and  I 
have  to  wait  for  papa,  who  is  at  a  meeting. 
Tell  your  maid  to  go  and  get  tea  for  herself; 
the  coachman  will  know,  I  expect,  if  he  ought  to 
put  the  horses  up." 

Greaves  evidently  thought  he  had  better 
do  so. 

"  Very  good,  ma'am.  Call  for  you  in  'arf 
an  hour,  ma'am,"  he  said,  and  drove  off  to  the 
St.  Quentin  Arms  in  the  next  street. 

Sydney   soon   found   herself  at   home   with 


MISS    MORRELL  83 

Miss  Morrell,  and  the  two  girls  talked  happily 
over  the  cream-cakes  and  fragrant  tea  for  which 
Grayson's  of  Dacreshaw  is  noted.  Ward  drank 
hers  in  the  room  below  with  an  easy  mind. 
She  had  heard  enough  of  Miss  Morrell  in  the 
servants'  hall  of  Castle  St.  Quentin  to  feel 
certain  that  there  could  be  no  objection  to  Miss 
Lisle  associating  with  her. 

Sydney  took  the  larger  share  in  the  con- 
versation. Miss  Morrell  had  a  knack  of 
drawing  people  out,  and  the  girl  found  herself 
telling  of  the  Chichester  family  at  home,  and 
making  her  new  friend  laugh  over  funny 
anecdotes  of  Fred  and  Prissie. 

"  You  must  have  found  it  dull  at  the  Castle 
just  at  first,  after  being  used  to  so  large  a  party," 
Miss  Morrell  said. 

"  I  did,"  Sydney  owned  frankly,  "  and  I  find 
it  rather  dull  still.  But  Lady  Frederica  is  kind 
and  amusing,  and  I  like — yes — I  do  quite  like, 
Cousin  St.  Quentin." 

Miss  Morrell  had  stooped  to  pick  up  the 
handkerchief  she  had  dropped  while  Sydney 
was  speaking.  She  took  rather  a  long  time 
in  doing  so,  and  when  her  head  appeared  again 
there  was  a  lovely  colour  in  her  face. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  hear  your  carriage  now,  dear," 
she  said,  rising,  "  and  we  must  not  keep  the 

6 


84  SYDNEY    LISLE 

the  horses  standing,  must  we  ?  No,  put  away 
your  purse ;  I  asked  you  to  tea.  I  expect 
we  shall  find  your  maid  waiting  for  you 
downstairs." 

"  I  do  hope  I  shall  see  you  at  the  calisthenic 
class ! "  Sydney  said  earnestly,  and  Miss 
Morrell  smiled  and  said  she  hoped  so  too. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  Dacreshaw  ?" 
asked  Lord  St.  Quentin,  as  Sydney  peeped 
into  the  library  about  an  hour  later,  with  a 
large  parcel  under  her  arm. 

She  came  and  sat  down  beside  him,  and 
undid  the  string  with  business-like  gravity. 

"It  is  a  perfectly  lovely  place !  "  she  assured 
him,  "and  the  print-shop  is  delightful.  The 
pictures  were  all  so  nice  that  I  hardly  knew  how 
to  choose  among  them.  Look  at  that  Greuze, 
Cousin  St.  Quentin,  isn't  her  face  just  sweet  ? 
I've  seen  the  original  of  that  in  the  Wallace 
collection.  Hugh  took  Mildred  and  Dolly  and 
me  there  one  day  last  year." 

"  That  eternal  Hugh  ! "  muttered  the  mar- 
quess, but  beneath  his  breath,  and  Sydney 
chattered  on  without  hearing. 

"  I  couldn't  settle  for  ever  so  long  whether  to 
have  the  girl  with  the  broken  pitcher,  or  with 
the  lamb,  but  Miss  Morrell  said " 

"  Who?" 


MISS    MORRELL  85 

"  Miss  Morrell.  She  was  there  in  the 
shop,  Cousin  St.  Quentin,  and  oh,  she  was  so 
nice !  She  helped  me  choose,  and  we  had  tea 
together.  She  knows  Lady  Frederica,  but  I 
don't  think  she  knows  you — she  didn't  say  so, 
but  she  asked  how  you  were.  Why,  Cousin 
St.  Quentin,  would  you  like  some  more  drops, 
or  shall  I  ring  for  Dickson  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  want  anything  or  anybody ; 
it's  all  right.  Only  you  had  better  go  off  to 
Aunt  Rica.  I'm  tired  to-night,"  he  said,  turning 
away. 

She  was  gathering  up  her  pictures  and  going 
obediently,  when  he  asked,  still  with  his  head 
averted,  "  Which  did  you  say  was  the  picture 
she  liked?" 

"  The  Broken  Pitcher,"  Sydney  answered 
wonderingly. 

"  Well,  you  might  leave  me  one  to  look  at — 
that  will  do — the  pitcher  one,  I  mean." 

Sydney  propped  her  Greuze  upon  the  table 
where  he  could  see  it  comfortably,  and  went 
out. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS 

Miss  OSRIC  arrived  at  the  Castle  on  the 
afternoon  following  Sydney's  expedition  to 
Dacreshaw. 

A  carriage  was  sent  to  meet  the  4  o'clock 
train,  and  Sydney,  in  spite  of  an  uncomfortably 
shy  sensation  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart, 
begged  leave  to  go  and  meet  her  governess. 

"  Certainly  not !  it  would  be  most  unsuitable  !" 
said  Lady  Frederica,  in  her  most  decided 
manner,  and  she  walked  away,  leaving  Sydney 
to  wonder  why  everything  she  wished  to  do 
was  either  unsuitable  or  absurd.  The  words 
were  unknown  at  No.  20,  in  that  dull  old  square 
not  far  from  Euston  Station,  which  was  home. 

Still,  Miss  Osric  should  have  a  welcome  at 
the  Castle  if  she  could  not  at  the  station,  and 
Sydney  hung  up  the  pictures  she  had  bought  at 
Dacreshaw,  and  coaxed  some  lovely  hot-house 
flowers  out  of  the  head-gardener,  Macintosh, 
to  fill  the  vases  in  her  governess's  room. 

86 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS  87 

St.  Quentin  was  rather  amused  by  her  exten- 
sive preparations.  "  But  you  see,"  Sydney 
remarked,  when  he  made  a  laughing  comment 
on  them,  "Miss  Osric  may  be  feeling  just  as 
shy  and  wretched  as  I  did  when  I  came  here, 
and  it  will  make  a  difference  if  somebody  is 
really  pleased  to  see  her." 

"  Didn't  you  think  we  were  pleased  to  see 
you  ? "  asked  her  cousin. 

"You  were  all  very  kind,"  Sydney  said 
doubtfully,  "  but,  you  didn't  exactly  want  me, 
did  you?  It  is  only  at  home  one  is  really 
wanted." 

She  stopped,  remembering  his  snub  on  the 
subject  of  calling  the  Chichesters'  house 
home  ;  but  he  only  said,  with  a  little  smile, 
"  Well,  go  and  make  your  governess  welcome  in 
your  own  way,  child.  I  hear  wheels  now." 

And,  as  the  girl  flew  out,  her  long  hair 
streaming  behind  her,  he  said  half  aloud,  *'  I 
wonder  how  it  would  feel  to  have  anyone  to 
care  if  one  were  wretched  or  no  !  " 

Sydney  was  on  the  steps  to  receive  Miss 
Osric,  and  certainly  her  shy  but  eager  welcome 
made  a  good  deal  of  difference  to  the  feelings 
of  the  young  governess,  bewildered  by  this 
plunge  into  the  outside  world,  made  for  the 
sake  of  the  younger  ones  at  home,  who  needed 


88  SYDNEY     LISLE 

better  education  than  her  father's  means 
allowed.  Mary  Osric,  just  returned  from  a 
brilliant  career  at  Lady  Margaret  Hall,  had 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  help  towards  providing 
some  of  the  advantages  she  had  herself  enjoyed 
for  her  juniors  ;  and  a  friend  had  mentioned 
her  name  to  Lady  Frederica  as  that  of  a  clever 
girl,  likely  to  fill  suitably  the  double  post  of 
governess  and  companion  to  Miss  Lisle. 

Miss  Osric  had  been  considered  shy  at 
College,  despite  her  cleverness,  and  the  idea  of 
teaching  a  strange  girl  in  an  absolutely  strange 
place  was  terrible  to  her.  But  she  always 
declared  afterwards  that  the  worst  was  over 
when  Sydney  came  running  out  into  the  hall  to 
welcome  her. 

"  You  must  be  cold ! "  the  girl  cried. 
"  Would  you  like  to  come  straight  to  your  room 
and  take  your  hat  off  before  tea?  Let  me 
carry  your  umbrella.  Be  careful  how  you  walk  ; 
the  floors  are  very  slippery." 

"  It  is  lovely — just  like  a  picture,"  said  Miss 
Osric,  beginning  suddenly  to  feel  less  homesick. 
There  was  something  very  winning  about 
Sydney's  tone. 

The  room  where  the  new  arrival  was  to 
sleep  bore  traces  also  of  the  same  care  for  her 
comfort.  A  bright  fire  burnt  in  the  grate, 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS  89 

a  vase  of  hot-house  flowers  was  on  the  writing- 
table,  the  pictures  from  Dacreshaw  looked 
charming  on  the  walls,  and  a  little  bookcase 
was  filled  with  a  selection  of  Sydney's  best- 
loved  books. 

"  What  a  charming  room ! "  the  young 
governess  exclaimed,  and  Sydney,  colouring 
a  little,  murmured  she  "  was  glad  Miss  Osric 
liked  it."  She  stayed  with  her  governess  while 
she  took  off  coat,  hat,  and  fur,  and  then  brought 
her  to  the  morning-room,  where  the  shaded 
lamp  shed  a  delicate  rose  glow  over  everything 
and  the  little  tea-table  was  drawn  up  to  the 
fire. 

"  I  am  so  very  glad  you  have  come,"  said 
Sydney,  as  she  poured  out  tea  and  handed 
muffins,  and  Miss  Osric  began  to  realise  that 
the  duty  she  had  set  herself  need  not  necessarily 
prove  a  hard  one. 

"  Well,  do  you  like  the  mentor  ?  "  asked  St. 
Quentin,  as  Sydney  came  into  the  library  to 
wish  him  goodnight.  "  Are  you  going  to  be 
quite  happy  now  you  have  another  girl  to  play 
with  ?  " 

And  Sydney,  meeting  the  real  anxiety  in  his 
eyes,  said  "  Yes." 

"  But  she  is  still  hankering  after  those  con- 
founded Chichesters ! "  her  cousin  said  to 


9O  SYDNEY     LISLE 

himself,  when  the  girl  had  left  him,  in  which 
conclusion  he  was  not  far  wrong. 

With  the  coming  of  Miss  Osric,  the  "  do  as 
you  please"  system  ceased. 

Lady  Frederica  might  be  lax  as  regarded 
solid  education.  "  There's  no  need  whatsoever 
to  behave  as  though  you  are  to  be  a  governess, 
my  dear,"  she  said  to  Sydney,  but  she  was 
horrified  by  the  girl's  lack  of  accomplishments. 

"  The  one  and  only  thing  the  child  can  do 
is  to  look  pretty,"  his  aunt  complained  to  St. 
Quentin,  "  and  beauty  without  style  is  very 
little  good.  Of  course,  we  must  be  thankful 
for  small  mercies — one  seldom  has  big  ones 
to  be  thankful  for — and  she  might  have  been 
fat  and  podgy  !  But  what  in  the  world  those 
doctor  people  were  about  not  to  give  her  drill 
and  calisthenic  lessons,  I  can't  think ! " 

"  There  were  herds  of  them,  I  fancy,"  said 
her  nephew.  "  Whenever  Sydney  mentions 
them,  which  isn't  seldom,  she  springs  a  new 
one  upon  me.  They  would  make  an  ex- 
cellent third  volume  to  the  Pillars  of  the  House. 
I  don't  suppose  there  was  overmuch  cash  to 
spare  for  accomplishments." 

"  I  never  can  think  why  it  is  that  those 
people  who  cannot  afford  it  always  have  such 
enormous  families,"  pursued  the  lady. 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS  9 1 

"  If  we  had  done  our  duty  by  Sydney  as 
we  should,  there  would  have  been  one  less 
all  these  eighteen  years,"  her  nephew  sug- 
gested, and  Lady  Frederica  changed  the 
subject,  as  she  always  did  when  St.  Quentin 
had  what  she  called  a  "  conscientious  craze." 

"  It's  your  health  makes  you  talk  like  that, 
my  dear  boy,"  she  declared.  "  You  are  really 
getting  quite  ridiculous  about  Sydney ! " 

The  round  of  accomplishments  now  began 
in  good  earnest. 

Sydney  and  Miss  Osric  breakfasted  at  eight- 
thirty,  after  which,  when  the  weather  was  at 
all  possible,  Sydney  took  her  ride  on  her  new 
mare  "  Bessie,"  a  charming  creature,  whom 
she  learned  to  love !  Even  Lady  Frederica 
owned  that,  after  a  few  lessons  from  old  Banks, 
who  had  taught  the  present  marquess  to  ride 
long  ago,  Sydney  passed  muster  well  enough 
on  horseback.  She  and  Bessie  understood 
each  other,  and  she  bade  fair  to  make  a  graceful 
and  a  fearless  horsewoman. 

"  Of  course  she  can  ride ;  all  the  Lisles 
can  ride  anything  that  has  a  back  to  it,"  St. 
Quentin  said,  when  Lady  Frederica  con- 
descended to  approve  the  girl's  horsemanship  ; 
but,  though  his  tone  was  careless,  there  was 
no  doubt  he  was  gratified  by  the  fact  that 


92  SYDNEY     LISLE 

his  young  cousin  took  after  the  family  in  that 
respect. 

On  three  mornings  in  the  week  Sydney 
had  masters  from  Donisbro'  for  French,  piano, 
and  singing,  and  every  Saturday  a  sergeant 
with  a  huge  black  moustache  came  to  teach  her 
fencing  in  the  long  "  Gallery-at-Arms,"  where 
the  third  marquess  of  St.  Quentin  was  said  to 
have  fought  a  duel  with  the  famous  Duke  of 
Marlborough  one  wild  morning  when  a  stormy 
dawn  peered  through  the  mullioned  windows, 
and  to  have  spared  his  life  as  being  host. 

Sydney  came  to  enjoy  her  lessons,  as  soon 
as  she  had  grown  used  to  the  strange  sensation 
of  having  every  bit  of  instruction  to  herself, 
with  only  Miss  Osric  sitting  by  to  chaperone 
her  pupil. 

She  had  a  fresh  young  voice  of  no  special 
power,  nor  was  her  playing  in  the  least  above 
the  average.  She  longed  that  Dolly,  who 
would  do  her  teachers  so  much  more  credit, 
might  enjoy  these  music  lessons  in  her  stead  ; 
but  the  wish  was  futile. 

She  and  Miss  Osric  lunched  at  two  with 
Lady  Frederica,  and,  if  possible,  managed  a 
brisk  walk  before  lunch.  Miss  Osric  was  as 
energetic  as  Sydney  herself,  and  always  ready 
to  go  out,  whatever  the  weather.  Sometimes 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS  93 

they  had  only  time  for  a  stroll  in  the  Park,  but 
often  extended  it  to  the  picturesque  little 
village,  where  the  broken-down  cottages,  with 
their  moss-covered  thatch  and  ivied  walls,  made 
Miss  Osric  long  for  the  summer  and  time  for 
sketching. 

In  the  afternoon  Lady  Frederica  generally 
liked  a  companion  on  her  drive  and  took 
Sydney,  but  the  girl  always  managed  to  find 
a  few  minutes  to  run  into  the  library  to  see  her 
cousin  ;  who,  except  on  his  worst  days,  was 
wheeled  from  his  bedroom  to  the  library  next 
door  about  two  o'clock. 

After  the  drive  there  was  tea,  then  usually 
another  visit  to  St.  Quentin,  followed  by 
practice,  preparation  for  her  masters,  and 
finishing,  not  infrequently,  with  something  she 
and  Miss  Osric  were  reading  together. 

They  dined  at  eight  with  Lady  Frederica, 
and  afterwards  sat  in  one  of  the  drawing-rooms 
till  9.30.,  when  Sydney  was  despatched  to  bed. 

This  was  rather  a  come-down  after  ten 
o'clock  bed-time  at  home,  but  Lady  Frederica 
was  firm  on  that  point. 

"  I  am  here  to  turn  you  into  the  right  kind 
of  girl  for  your  position,"  she  explained  to 
Sydney,  "  and  one  of  the  most  important  things 
for  it  is  a  good  complexion.  I  went  to  bed 


94  SYDNEY    LISLE 

at  seven  every  night  of  my  life  till  I  was 
seventeen  and  came  out,  and  I  don't  think 
there  was  a  complexion  to  match  mine  in 
London.  Yours  will  never  equal  it,  my  dear, 
though  St.  Quentin  does  say  silly  things  about 
you.  Yes,  my  complexion  was  perfect,  and  so 
was  my  way  of  entering  a  room  (you  poke, 
rather !)  and  getting  in  and  out  of  a  carriage ; 
and  though  I  never  could  remember  why 
Romeo  wrote  Juliet,  or  whether  Chaucer  or 
Pope  was  the  author  of  '  In  Memoriam,'  I 
married  Tim  Verney,  the  millionaire,  at  the  end 
of  my  first  season  !  " 

Poor  Sydney  used  to  listen  to  such  con- 
versations with  a  vague  and  increasing  sense  of 
discomfort.  Was  this  to  be  her  life,  only  this  ? 
Was  this  where  all  the  accomplishments  were 
leading?  Was  this,  only  this,  what  mother 
had  meant  by  "  making  the  best  in  every  sense 
of  this  new  life  "  ? 

Sydney  felt  quite  sure  that  it  was  not ! 

She  grew  graver  and  distinctly  more  home- 
sick ;  St.  Quentin  noticed  the  change  in  her, 
and  put  it  down  to  rather  too  many  lessons. 
By  his  decree  the  ride  was  lengthened ;  but 
it  was  something  more  than  mere  amusement 
that  poor  Sydney  wanted.  Perhaps  the  want 
she  was  most  conscious  of  herself  was  mother. 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS  95 

The  drill  and  fencing  lessons  were  supposed 
to  give  the  girl  that  "  deportment "  of  which 
Lady  Frederica  spoke  so  constantly,  but  she 
was  herself  Sydney's  most  effective  teacher. 
The  girl  grew  very  weary  of  the  constant 
instructions.  "  Don't  run  downstairs,  Sydney  ! 
— never  seem  in  a  hurry.  My  dear,  don't 
shake  hands  that  way.  Miss  Osric,  kindly  give 
her  your  hand  again.  No,  that's  not  right ! 
Dear  me  !  I  think  they  might  have  taught  you 
such  a  simple  thing  as  to  shake  hands  grace- 
fully at  your  doctor's." 

If  Sydney  failed  in  any  way,  Lady  Frederica 
was  surprised  that  she  had  not  been  taught 
better  at  "  the  doctor's."  It  made  the  girl 
grow  hot  with  indignation  for  the  dear  home 
people,  but  she  was  quite  aware  that  Lady 
Frederica  would  only  raise  her  eyebrows  and 
say,  "Gracious,  child,  don't  be  absurd!"  if 
she  expressed  a  tithe  of  what  she  felt. 

The  bi-weekly  calisthenic  lessons  came  as  a 
welcome  relaxation.  The  drive  to  Donisbro' 
was  in  itself  a  pleasure,  for,  after  the  first 
novelty  had  worn  off,  Lady  Frederica  sent 
Miss  Osric  with  her  pupil. 

The  class  comprised  only  about  a  dozen 
girls  between  the  ages  of  fourteen  and  nineteen, 
who  met  at  a  private  house  and  were  taught  by 


96  SYDNEY    LISLE 

a  master  who  bestowed  instructions  upon 
royalty. 

It  felt  like  meeting  an  old  friend  to  Sydney 
to  see  Katharine  Morrell's  clear-cut  face  and 
calm  eyes  among  the  mothers  and  governesses, 
and  she  enjoyed  introducing  Miss  Osric  and 
telling  eagerly  the  unimportant  little  details  of 
her  daily  life  to  an  ear  which  was  always 
sympathetic. 

She  began  to  look  forward  to  Tuesdays  and 
Fridays  as  the  best  days  in  the  week,  and 
save  up  the  nicest  bits  of  news  to  tell  Miss 
Morrell — Hugh's  last  success — Madge's  Latin 
prize  at  the  High  School — or  some  kindness 
shown  her  by  St.  Quentin. 

Katharine  Morrell  seemed  interested  in  all 
and  everything  that  Sydney  had  to  tell,  even 
in  the  news  of  the  Castle,  which  seemed  to 
its  teller  so  infinitely  less  worth  hearing  than 
the  doings  of  the  Chichesters  and  home. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE   HEIRESS-APPARENT 

ON  a  clear,  cold  December  evening  a  month 
after  Sydney's  arrival,  the  grand  old  castle 
of  St.  Quentin  seemed  to  have  cast  off  for  the 
moment  its  habitual  sombreness. 

Sounds  of  talk  and  laughter  came  from  the 
brilliantly-lit  dining-room,  and  the  great  hall, 
though  empty  still,  was  gay  with  flowers — 
great  pots  of  chrysanthemums  and  arum  lilies 
standing  against  walls  where  more  than  one 
cannon  ball  was  embedded. 

On  this  night  Lord  St.  Quentin  had  elected 
to  give  a  dinner  to  his  principal  tenants,  and 
afterwards  to  formally  present  Sydney  to  them 
as  his  heir. 

It  was  in  vain  Dr.  Lorry  urged  that  excite- 
ment was  bad  for  his  patient  ;  it  was  in  vain 
Sydney  begged  to  be  excused  the  ordeal. 
The  Lisles  of  history  had  been  renowned 
for  their  obstinacy  in  the  days  when  half 

97 


98  SYDNEY    LISLE 

the  Castle  had  been  shattered  by  cannon,  and 
the  present  head  of  the  house  was  not  behind 
his  ancestors  in  that  respect. 

"  The  child  has  been  brought  up  in  a 
corner,"  he  said,  "  but  her  acknowledgment 
is  going  to  be  as  public  as  I  can  make  it. 
The  tenantry  may  just  as  well  know  something 
of  her  before  she  conies  to  rule  over  them." 

So  the  preparations  were  made  and  the 
guests  bidden. 

Lady  Frederica  groaned  a  good  deal  over 
"  St.  Quentin's  fads,"  as  she  called  them.  "  If 
he  wants  to  entertain,  he  might  just  as  well 
have  consulted  my  pleasure  by  giving  a  dinner 
or  a  dance  to  our  own  set,"  she  complained ; 
"but  to  expect  me  to  be  enthusiastic  over 
the  coming  of  a  lot  of  old  farmers  is  a  little 
too  much ! " 

Sydney  did  not1  remember  that  St.  Quentin 
had  asked  Lady  Frederica  to  be  enthusiastic, 
or  indeed  be  anything  except  be  there,  but 
of  course  she  did  not  say  so. 

Lord  St.  Quentin  asked  his  cousin  Lord 
Braemuir  to  come  down  to  stay  at  the  castle, 
and  take  the  head  of  the  table  at  the 
dinner. 

He  was  a  bluff,  hearty-looking  man,  and 
Sydney  took  a  fancy  to  him  because  he  spoke 


THE    HEIRESS-APPARENT  99 

kindly   of  her  young  mother  and  father,  and 
seemed  to  think  they  had  been  hardly  treated. 

"  I  never  could  see  the  girl  was  to  blame," 
he  told  St.  Quentin,  when  they  were  alone 
together.  "  She  was  a  child  and  poor  Frank 
was  another,  and  if  only  Gwenyth  had  let 
well  alone,  there  would  have  been  no  harm 
done.  But  perhaps  it  was  just  as  well  she 
did  interfere,  for  you've  got  a  charming  little 
girl  for  your  heir,  Quin,  my  boy.  Well,  how 
things  turn  out !  Fancy  little  Miss  Henderson's 
child  coming  to  be  Marchioness  of  St.  Quentin  !  " 

The  ladies  dined  in  the  library  with  St. 
Quentin  that  night — Lady  Frederica  very 
magnificent  in  green  and  gold,  with  the  Verney 
topazes  gleaming  in  her  hair.  Sydney  was 
all  in  white,  and  wore  no  jewelry.  Lady 
Frederica  was  rigid  in  her  views  upon  the 
etiquette  of  dress  for  girls  not  yet  "  out." 

The  girl  had  insensibly  improved  very  much 
during  the  past  month  in  style  and  dignity. 
She  held  herself  better,  and  had  grown  to  be 
considerably  less  shy.  St.  Quentin  watched 
her  with  approval  as  she  sat  down  after  dinner 
beside  Miss  Osric,  and  began  a  low-toned 
conversation,  which  should  not  interfere  with 
Lady  Frederica's  rather  high-pitched  stream 
then  flowing  over  him. 

7 


TOO  SYDNEY    LISLE 

She  was  looking  very  pretty  too,  he  thought ; 
with  a  colour  in  her  small  delicately-cut  face 
and  an  earnest  look  in  the  great  grey  eyes. 
"  Yes,  Braemuir  was  right,"  he  thought  to 
himself,  "  I  have  got  a  very  charming  heir !  " 

Steps  were  heard  outside,  and  Lord  Braemuir 
entered,  sending  his  jolly  voice  before  him. 
"  Are  you  ready,  Quin,  my  boy,  and  you,  my 
dear?  Yes,  dinner  went  off  splendidly,  St. 
Quentin,  and  your  farmers  quite  appreciated 
it,  I  assure  you.  Where  is  the  presentation 
to  take  place  ?  Oh,  the  great  hall,  is  it  ? 
Here,  shall  I  wheel  your  couch  in?" 

"  Thanks,  ring  for  Dickson,  please,"  said 
St.  Quentin.  "  Will  you  go  and  bring  the 
tenants  to  the  hall,  Braemuir,  and  then  come 
back  here  and  take  in  Aunt  Rica.  Sydney, 
walk  beside  my  couch,  please — don't  be 
frightened — nobody  shall  eat  you !  " 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  said  Sydney,  drawing 
herself  up,  and  they  went  into  the  great  hall 
together,  she  walking  by  his  side. 

Lady  Frederica  followed,  on  the  arm  of 
Lord  Braemuir,  and  Mr.  Fenton,  who  had 
come  down  for  this  great  occasion,  gave  his 
to  Miss  Osric. 

All  eyes  were  turned  upon  the  girl  as  she 
walked  slowly  up  the  hall,  her  colour  coming 


THE    HEIRESS-APPARENT  IOI 

and  going,  but  showing  otherwise  no  sign 
of  nervousness.  They  came  to  the  great  fire- 
place and  there  stopped.  St.  Quentin  raised 
his  head  a  little,  and  spoke,  his  hand  on 
Sydney's. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  I'm  very  glad  to  see 
so  many  of  you  here  to-night.  You  all  know, 
I  think,  why  I  asked  for  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  when  I  am  incapable  of  entertaining 
you  myself.  It  is  to  present  to  you  my  cousin 
and  heir,  Miss  Lisle." 

Several  people  cheered  at  this  point,  and 
Mr.  Fenton  rubbed  his  hands  together  with 
a  little  smile.  He  detected  the  undercurrent 
of  pride  in  St.  Quentin's  voice  at  having  such 
an  heir  to  present.  And  he  remembered  well 
enough  the  tone  in  which  the  marquess  had 
said,  only  five  weeks  ago,  "  We  must  have 
the  girl  here,  I  suppose!" 

"  A  good  many  of  you  here  to-night  will 
remember  her  father,  Lord  Francis,"  St.  Quentin 
went  on. 

•'  Yes,  my  lord,"  was  heard  on  many  sides. 

"  Well,  Fate  and  my  motor-car  between 
them,  have  put  the  title  into  Miss  Lisle's 
hands,"  pursued  the  marquess.  "  I  shouldn't 
altogether  wonder  if  she  makes  a  better  hand 
of  the  landlord  business  than  I've  done,  when 


IO2  SYDNEY    LISLE 

her  time  comes  to  govern  for  herself.  Gentle- 
men, I  have  much  pleasure  in  presenting  you 
my  heir." 

One  sentence  in  St.  Quentin's  speech  was 
standing  out  in  Sydney's  mind,  and  repeating 
itself  over  in  her  head,  making  her  deaf  for  the 
moment  to  all  else  going  on  around  her.  "  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  she  makes  a  better  hand  of 
the  landlord  business  than  I've  done."  Then 
there  was  something  she  was  called  upon  to 
do  in  this  new  life,  besides  moving  gracefully 
and  shaking  hands  in  the  newest  manner  !  St. 
Quentin  had  to  touch  her  on  the  arm  to  rouse 
her  attention  to  his  next  remark. 

"Will  Mr.  Hudder  be  good  enough  to  come 
forward  ?  Miss  Lisle  will  like  to  shake  hands 
with  our  oldest  tenant.  Mr.  Hudder  held  his 
farm  in  my  grandfather's  time,  Sydney,"  he 
explained  to  her. 

Sydney  did  not  feel  quite  certain  as  to  the 
proper  procedure  in  such  a  case.  She  went 
forward  and  put  her  hand  in  the  old  farmer's 
great  brown  one.  "  I  am  so  pleased  to  meet 
you,  Mr.  Hudder." 

The  old  man  retained  the  little  hand,  and 
slowly  shook  it  up  and  down.  "  Man  and  boy 
I've  held  my  farm  under  the  Marquesses  of  St. 
Quentin,  miss,"  he  said  solemnly.  "  They've 


THE    HEIRESS-APPARENT  IO3 

been  good  landlords  to  me,  and  I've  been  a 
good  tenant  to  them.  I'm  very  pleased  to  see 
you  here  among  us,  miss  ;  though  I'll  not  deny 
but  that  we  did  hope  to  see  his  lordship  there, 
marry  and  bring  up  a  family  at  the  old  place 
and " 

"  Bravo ! "  said  a  voice  from  behind  the 
tapestry,  and  a  gentleman,  in  a  faultless  overcoat, 
drew  it  aside  and  walked  across  the  polished 
floor.  The  old  farmer  dropped  Sydney's  hand 
in  some  confusion :  the  new-comer  took  a 
comprehensive  glance  around  him  through  the 
monocle  screwed  into  one  of  his  rather  cold 
blue  eyes.  "Hope  I  don't  intrude?"  he 
inquired. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  Castle's  owner,  "glad 
to  see  you."  But  the  smile  which  had  been 
upon  his  face,  as  he  watched  Sydney  and  the 
old  man,  disappeared. 

The  monocle  located  the  couch  by  the  fire : 
the  new  visitor  went  towards  it  with  out- 
stretched hand.  "  Hullo,  Quin,  heard  you  got 
smashed  up  !  "  he  remarked. 

"  Well,  now  you  see  for  yourself,"  was  the 
dry  answer. 

"  Awfully  sorry — quite  cut  up  about  it,"  he 
explained  ;  "  thought  several  times  of  dropping 
you  a  postcard  to  inquire." 


IO4  SYDNEY    LISLE 

"Really?"  said  the  marquess;  "but  one 
could  hardly  expect  such  a  literary  effort  from 
you.  Aunt  Rica,  may  I  introduce  Bridge,  I 
don't  think  you  know  each  other.  Sir  Algernon 
Bridge — Lady  Frederica  Verney — Miss  Lisle. 
Now,  my  dear  chap,  you'd  better  go  and  dine. 
Braemuir,  you'll  look  after  him,  as  I  can't, 
won't  you?" 

Lord  Braemuir  had  been  standing  apart 
since  the  entrance  of  this  fresh  guest,  with 
an  unusually  grave  expression  on  his  good- 
humoured  face. 

At  St.  Quentin's  words  he  came  slowly 
forward,  and  gave  his  hand  to  the  new-comer, 
still  without  a  smile.  "  How  are  you,  Bridge  ?" 
he  said. 


CHAPTER  X 

A   MEETING 

SYDNEY  saw  considerably  less  of  her  cousin 
after  the  arrival  of  Sir  Algernon. 

He  announced  that  he  had  come  to  spend 
Christmas,  much  to  the  relief  of  Lady  Fred- 
erica,  who  declared  it  would  be  "  such  a  comfort 
to  have  somebody  to  amuse  St.  Quentin."  He 
himself  acquiesced  in  the  arrangement  without 
saying  much,  or  expressing  pleasure  or  the 
reverse. 

The  new  inmate  of  the  Castle  was  distinctly 
an  addition  to  its  liveliness.  He  and  Lady 
Frederica  had  several  acquaintances  in  common, 
and  Sydney  and  Miss  Osric,  sitting  quietly 
at  the  dinner-table,  found  their  ideas  of  various 
distinguished  persons  most  uncomfortably  dis- 
arranged. Sir  Algernon  had  a  knack,  however, 
of  suiting  his  conversation  to  his  company. 
When  he  overtook  Sydney  and  her  governess 

105 


IO6  SYDNEY   LISLE 

returning  from  taking  soup  to  a  sick  child 
in  the  village,  he  walked  between  them, 
talking  very  pleasantly  of  the  historical  as- 
sociations and  romantic  stories  connected  with 
St.  Quentin  Castle — a  subject  particularly  in- 
teresting to  Sydney,  who  was  beginning  to 
feel  a  certain  pride  in  the  past  of  the  grand 
old  house  to  which  she  belonged. 

It  may  be  presumed  that  his  conversation 
pleased  St.  Quentin  also,  for  his  guest  was 
shut  up  with  him  a  good  deal  in  the  library, 
smoking  and  talking. 

In  other  ways  besides  amusing  conversation, 
Sir  Algernon's  presence  was  a  boon  to  the  ladies. 
He  was  a  first-rate  whip,  and  the  four-in-hand 
which  St.  Quentin  used  to  drive  was  had  out 
from  the  stables — where  it  and  his  shattered 
motor-car  had  stood  so  long  idle  together — for 
the  benefit  of  Sir  Algernon.  He  took  Lady 
Frederica  and  Sydney  out  in  it :  one  day 
they  even  went  as  far  as  Donisbro'  and 
lunched  at  the  principal  hotel  there. 

Sydney  wished  to  lunch  at  the  Deanery, 
that  she  might  return  a  book  Miss  Morrell 
had  lent  her,  but  this  Lady  Frederica  would 
not  allow. 

"  If  you  will  solemnly  swear  not  to  go  into 
the  Deanery  drawing-room  on  any  excuse 


A   MEETING  lO'J 

whatsoever,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  escort  you 
to  the  door,  Miss  Lisle,"  Sir  Algernon  suggested 
good-naturedly,  noticing  the  way  her  face  fell 
at  Lady  Frederica's  refusal.  "  We  shouldn't 
take  above  twenty  minutes  getting  there  and 
back,  if  you  only  leave  the  book  at  the  door. 
If  Lady  Frederica  will  allow  us,  we  will  go 
directly  after  lunch,  while  she  is  choosing 
those  cards  she  spoke  of." 

Lady  Frederica  agreed  readily  enough  to 
this  arrangement,  and  the  two  set  out  together 
when  their  lunch  was  over,  with  a  parting 
direction  on  her  part,  "  Be  sure  you  hurry, 
for  the  afternoons  are  so  short,  and  we  must 
start  early  on  our  homeward  drive." 

They  left  the  parcel  with  the  Deanery 
footman,  and  retraced  their  steps  through 
the  Close  and  up  the  steep  High  Street  of 
Donisbro'. 

The  shops  were  very  gay  with  Christmas 
cards  and  presents :  Sir  Algernon  inquired 
if  Miss  Lisle  still  retained  a  taste  for  turkey 
and  plum-pudding  ?  She  answered  absently, 
for  the  Christmas  preparations  brought  back 
home  with  a  painful  clearness.  She  thought 
of  the  shopping  expeditions  which  became 
so  many  as  Christmas  Eve  drew  on,  and  the 
numberless  secrets  with  which  the  tall  old 


IO8  SYDNEY    LISLE 

house  seemed  packed  from  garret  to  cellar, 
and  the  wild  excitement  of  Christmas  Eve ; 
when  all  the  boys  and  girls  who  might 
be  trusted  to  be  quite  conformable,  went 
out  to  see  the  brilliant  show  of  Christmas 
shops  under  the  guardianship  of  Hugh  and 
Mildred. 

"  What's  the  girl  thinking  of?"  Sir  Algernon 
asked  himself,  a  little  piqued,  for  he  was  not 
used  to  having  his  remarks  received  with 
inattention  or  indifference. 

Then  suddenly  a  light  dawned  on  him,  for 
Sydney's  eyes,  which  had  been  fixed  rather 
absently  upon  the  sloppy  pavement  before  her, 
grew  bright  with  recognition.  She  broke  into  a 
cry  of  joy,  and  in  a  second  had  sprung  forward 
to  seize  both  the  outstretched  hands  of  a  young 
man,  who  was  hurrying  down  the  street  towards 
her.  "Oh,  Hugh!  Hugh!" 

"  By  Jove ! "  Sir  Algernon  let  out  between 
his  teeth,  as  he  stood  aside,  forgotten  by 
both. 

"  Hugh  !  what  are  you  doing  at  Donisbro'  ?" 

"  Sir  Anthony  had  an  operation  to  perform 
here,"  Hugh  explained,  "and,  like  the  brick 
he  is,  took  me  as  his  anaesthetist.  I  never 
thought  of  this  luck  !  " 

"Oh,    Hugh!   how  are  they   all?     How   is 


A   MEETING  IOQ 

mother?     Oh,  dear!  there  are  such  hundreds 
of  things   I   want  to  ask  you ! " 

"I'm  just  the  same.  How  are  you,  dear? 
Your  letters  are  jolly,  but  they  don't  tell  a 
quarter  that  we  want  to  know.  You're  look- 
ing well."  The  old  brotherly  approval  in  his 
eyes  was  replaced,  the  girl  saw,  by  a  new 
expression.  "  Who  are  you  with  ?  Are  you 
driving,  or  what  ?  Can  I  walk  with  you  ? 
You  mustn't  stand  in  this  cold." 

"No,  I  am  sure  Miss  Lisle  should  not," 
Sir  Algernon  interpolated  suavely.  "  Mr. 
Chichester,  I  suppose  ? " 

Hugh  bowed  and  apologised.  Sydney  in- 
troduced the  two  in  form,  with  a  loving  pride 
in  speaking  Hugh's  name  which  did  not  escape 
the  baronet. 

"  We  ought  to  be  rejoining  Lady  Frederica, 
don't  you  think?"  he  said  to  her;  "we  were 
ordered  not  to  linger." 

"  I  forgot,"  said  Sydney.  "  Yes,  we  must 
go.  Hugh,  come  too.  I  want  to  show  you 
to  Lady  Frederica." 

And  Hugh,  against  his  better  judgment, 
came.  It  was  hard  to  refuse  Sydney  anything 
when  the  sweet  face  looked  at  him  so  earnestly. 
Besides,  at  home  they  would  be  hungry  for 
how  r.ould  he  helo  saving;  yes. 


IIO  SYDNEY    LISLE 

He  walked  beside  her,  but  confidences  were 
impossible  in  the  presence  of  Sir  Algernon, 
although  that  gentleman  made  himself  exceed- 
ingly agreeable  according  to  his  wont.  Still, 
Hugh  could  look  at  Sydney  and  hear  her  speak, 
and  that  was  something. 

They  reached  the  hotel  all  too  soon.  Lady 
Frederica  was  looking  out  for  them  and  the 
introduction  was  made.  She  was  civil,  but 
by  no  means  cordial,  and  conveyed  an  accent 
of  disapproval  into  her  polite  surprise  at  seeing 
Mr.  Chichester  so  far  from  town. 

Sydney  explained  eagerly,  but  Lady  Fred- 
erica's  "  Indeed!  "  was  discouraging,  and  there 
was  a  pause.  Hugh  felt  he  was  expected  to 
take  his  leave,  and  took  it. 

"  Good-bye,  Sydney,  I'm — awfully  glad  to 
have  seen  you." 

"  Good-bye  !  Good-bye,  Hugh — my  love 
to  them  at  home,  a  great  deal  of  love,  you 
know,  Hugh.  Good-bye !  " 

Oh,  dear !  how  much  there  was  that  Sydney 
wanted  to  say  to  him  !  If  only  Lady  Frederica 
would  have  left  them  for  a  little  time  alone  !  If 
only  Sir  Algernon  had  not  been  there  when  they 
met!  She  wanted — oh,  so  much  ! — to  hear  the 
little  things  that  letters  never  tell ;  those  little 
items  of  everyday  home  news  for  which  she 


A    MEETING  III 

felt  so  sick  with  longing  suddenly.  Why  hadn't 
she  asked  this,  that,  and  the  other  ?  She 
seemed  to  have  said  nothing  but  good-bye. 
She  was  very  quiet  upon  the  homeward  drive, 
so  quiet  that  Sir  Algernon  looked  curiously 
at  her  more  than  once.  And  when  they 
reached  the  castle,  and  the  girl  had  gone  up 
to  the  schoolroom,  he  went  into  the  library  to 
St.  Quentin. 

"  Got  any  views  for  that  little  girl,  Quin  ?  " 
he  asked  carelessly,  when  he  had  answered  his 
host's  inquiries  as  to  the  conditions  of  the 
roads,  the  "  pace  of  the  greys,"  and  other 
details  of  their  day. 

"  Possibly,  but  none  that  I  need  your  advice 
upon,  thanks,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Don't  get  riled,  old  man,  I  wasn't  offering 
it."  Sir  Algernon  lit  a  cigarette  with  great 
care  and  sat  down  by  the  fire.  "It  strikes 
me  that  she  has  views  of  her  own,  as  well," 
he  concluded. 

"  Suppose  we  leave  Sydney  out  of  the  con- 
versation, altogether  !  "  said  St.  Quentin. 

"  Oh,  just  as  you  please,  of  course.  Do  you 
want  the  people  who  brought  her  up — the 
Chichesters — to  be  a  tabooed  subject  as  well  ?  " 

"What  of  them?" 

"  Oh,  a  son  is  at  Donisbro',  that's  all." 


112  SYDNEY    LISLE 

"  One  of  the  Chichesters  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  she  called  him  Hugh." 

Sir  Algernon  leaned  back  luxuriously  in  his 
chair,  stretching  out  his  feet  to  the  cheerful 
blaze. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  my  aunt  allowed 
the  child  to  enter  into  conversation  with  him  ?  " 

St.  Quentin's  tone  was  very  sharp ;  Sir 
Algernon  laughed  lightly. 

"  Don't  look  so  fierce,  old  chap.  I  was  the 
guilty  party,  I'm  afraid.  I  was  escorting  her 
back  to  Lady  Frederica  after  leaving  a  parcel 
with  some  girl  or  other,  when  we  ran  across 
this  young  chemist's  assistant,  or  whatever  he 
is.  They  fairly  rushed  into  each  other's  arms. 
I  couldn't  interfere  very  well,  you  see,  though 
I  did  venture  to  suggest,  after  a  lengthy  period 
of  patient  freezing,  that  there  was  a  limit  to 
the  time  he  ought  to  keep  her  standing  in  the 
street.  He  walked  with  us  to  the  hotel,  and 
there  Lady  Frederica  choked  him  off  You 
needn't  look  so  furious,  Quin,  there  wasn't 
much  harm  done  ;  only  I  fancy  Miss  Sydney 
isn't  quite  the  pliable  little  wax  saint  you  think 
her,  she " 

"  Leave  her  name  alone,  please  ! " 

"  Oh,  very  well !  You've  grown  uncommonly 
stand-offish  of  late,  my  dear  chap ;  you'll  be 


A   MEETING  113 

showing  me  the  door  next,  eh?"     His  laugh 
was  not  particularly  pleasant. 

St.  Quentin  was  frowning  heavily.  "  You 
might  leave  me  quiet  a  bit,"  he  said.  "I'm 
not  in  the  best  of  humours,  to-night." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  Sir  Algernon, 
rising  and  flinging  his  cigarette  away ;  "  it's 
quite  unnecessary,  I  assure  you."  And  he  went 
to  Lady  Frederica  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  Would  you  go  to  his  lordship  in  the 
library,  please,  ma'am,  if  quite  convenient,"  a 
footman  said,  a  little  later,  coming  to  the 
schoolroom,  where  Sydney  and  Miss  Osric, 
undeterred  by  the  approach  of  dinner,  were 
thoroughly  enjoying  a  very  late  tea. 

Sydney  put  down  her  cup  and  got  up  at 
once. 

"  Are  you  quite  rested  now,  dear  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Osric.  "  You  looked  tired  when  you 
came  in,  and  I  am  sure,  if  you  are  tired  still, 
Lord  St.  Quentin  would  excuse  you." 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  tired,"  Sydney  said,  and 
went  down  the  wide  stairs  and  across  the  hall 
to  the  library. 

St.  Quentin  was  alone,  but  she  knew  Sir 
Algernon  had  been  there  by  the  smell  of 
smoke.  Her  cousin's  eyebrows  were  drawn 
close  together,  and  there  was  a  look  upon 


114  SYDNEY    LISLE 

his  face  which  was  new  to  her.  He  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  to  smile  at  her  entrance 
to-day. 

"  Come  here,  Sydney,"  he  said  sharply.  "  I 
have  something  to  say  to  you.  I  hear  you 
met  that  young  Chichester  this  afternoon." 

His  contemptuous  tone  made  the  colour 
flame  into  her  face. 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  she  said  a  little  bit  defiantly  ; 
"  of  course  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  it." 

"  Were  you  ?  "  said  St.  Quentin.  "  Now, 
Sydney,  we  had  better  understand  each  other. 
The  Chichesters  brought  you  up,  and  of  course 
you  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  them  in  conse- 
quence. I  have  no  objection  whatsoever  to 
your  paying  it — in  any  reasonable  way.  I 
spoke  to  Braemuir  on  the  subject  when  he 
was  staying  here,  and  he  promised  me  to  use 
his  influence  towards  getting  some  of  those 
boys  a  start  in  life.  I  don't  suppose  you  know 
that,  though  the  estate  is  by  no  means  as 
unencumbered  as  I  could  wish,  I  offered  to 
refund  your  doctor  what  he  spent  on  you  in 
your  childhood,  and " 

"  He  said  '  No,'  of  course!  "  Sydney  cried, 
with  flashing  eyes.  "  Why,  I  was  father's 
child — of  course  he  wouldn't  be  paid  for  keep- 
ing me ! " 


A    MEETING  115 

"  Don't  indulge  in  heroics,  please  ;  they  bore 
me,"  St.  Quentin  observed  drily.  "  Yes, 
Dr.  Chiehester — try  to  drop  the  expression 
'  father,'  please,  in  speaking  of  him  ;  it  only 
makes  you  sound  ridiculous — Dr.  Chiehester, 
I  say,  refused  my  offer  with  some  heat.  Like 
you,  he  appeared  to  consider  it  insulting. 
Tastes  differ ;  mine  is,  as  you  know,  for  com- 
mon sense.  Now,  I  should  be  obliged  if 
you  would  kindly  give  me  your  attention  for 
five  minutes.  You  are  going  to  occupy  a 
great  position,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  have 
those  Chichesters  hanging  round  you.  Those 
brother-and-sister  friendships  are  charming  in 
theory,  but  they  don't  work.  I  know  what 
they  lead  to.  I  should  be  obliged  if  you  would 
correspond  less  frequently  with  the  doctor's 
family,  and  shall  request  Aunt  Rica  to  see 
to  it.  And  I  distinctly  forbid  you  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  that  young  man  when 
next  he  happens  to  be  staying  in  these  parts. 
Do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  you  want  me  to  forget 
mother  and  father,  and  all  the  rest  of  them 
at  home  ?  "  Sydney  cried.  There  was  an  odd 
expression  on  St.  Quentin's  face,  as  he  watched 
the  growing  indignation  upon  hers. 

"  Well,   something    like   it — you  won't   find 

8 


1  16  SYDNEY    LISLE 

it  very  difficult  in  time,  I  assure  you,"  was 
his  answer. 

"I  don't  mean  to  do  it!"  she  said  with  a 
trembling  voice.  "  I  shall  have  to  obey  you 
about  not  writing  so  often,  or  speaking  to 
Hugh  if  I  meet  him,  but  I  can't  and  I  won't 
forget  them !  I  hate  this  place !  I  wish  I 
had  never  come,  and  when  you  talk  like  that 
I  hate  you  !  .  .  .  I  was  beginning  to  care  about 
you,  but  I  don't  now  at  all !  "  She  was  fighting 
to  keep  back  her  sobs.  "  Do  you  forget  the 
people  you  have  cared  for,  that  you  want 
me  to  ? "  she  asked  him  fiercely,  and  went 
quickly  out. 

St.  Quentin  turned  his  head  and  looked 
after  her. 

"  Do  I  forget  ?  "  he  muttered  ;  "  no,  I  wish 
I  did!" 


CHAPTER    XI 

ON    THE   CHURCH    TOWER 

ON  the  morning  following  the  expedition  to 
Donisbro',  Lady  Frederica  received  an  apolo- 
getic note  from  Herr  Felsbaden,  Sydney's 
music-master,  regretting  his  inability  to  give 
Miss  Lisle  her  lesson  that  day,  owing  to  a 
severe  cold.  If  convenient  to  Lady  Frederica 
and  Miss  Lisle,  he  would  come  to  the  Castle 
on  Friday  afternoon  instead. 

The  note  was  sent  in  to  Miss  Osric,  when 
Lady  Frederica  had  glanced  through  it  over 
her  early  cup  of  tea,  and  governess  and  pupil 
read  it  together. 

Sydney  was  looking  pale  and  heavy-eyed 
this  morning,  Miss  Osric  saw,  and  guessed 
that  Lord  St.  Quentin  had  said  something  to 
distress  the  girl.  It  was  a  bright  sunny  morn- 
ing, with  that  exhilaration  in  the  air  which  only 
a  perfect  winter's  day  has  the  power  to  give. 

"  Suppose,  as  you  have  no  master  coming 


I  1 8  SYDNEY   LISLE 

this  morning,  we  go  out  for  a  walk  as  soon 
as  we  have  read  a  little,  Sydney  dear  ?  "  Miss 
Osric  suggested.  "  It  is  such  a  lovely  morn- 
ing, and  you  look  tired.  I  think  the  air  would 
do  you  good." 

"  I  have  a  little  headache,"  Sydney  owned, 
and  they  set  out  for  their  walk  at  about  10-30. 

The  frost  was  thick  in  the  park,  and  every 
little  twig  upon  the  great  bare  trees  outlined 
clearly  against  a  sky  of  pale  cloudless  blue. 
Sydney  wondered  why  she  did  not  feel  the  old 
exhilaration  that  a  morning  such  as  this  would 
have  once  awakened  in  her,  even  in  smoky 
London. 

But  if  she  could  not  enjoy  the  perfect  morn- 
ing, they  soon  met  somebody  who  could ! 

As  they  passed  the  gate  of  the  Vicarage,  Mr. 
Seaton  came  out,  holding  Pauly  by  the  hand. 
The  child  was  in  a  state  of  absolutely  wild 
delight,  dancing  and  jumping  by  his  father's 
side,  and  his  eyes  glittering  like  two  stars  under 
the  tangle  of  red  hair. 

"  Going  up  the  great  big  'normous  tower ! " 
he  informed  Sydney,  as  she  stooped  to  kiss 
him.  "  Going  to  walk  miles  and  miles  and 
miles  up  ladders,  almost  to  the  sky ! " 

The  Vicar  laughed  and  shook  hands  with 
both  the  girls. 


ON    THE   CHURCH    TOWER  IIQ 

"  I  have  to  give  some  orders  about  new  bell- 
ropes  ;  ours  were  rotten,  and  I  Ve  had  them 
taken  down,"  he  explained.  "  And  it  was  an 
old  promise  I  should  take  this  monkey  up  the 
tower  next  time  I  had  to  go  there.  Do  you 
two  feel  inclined,  I  wonder,  to  come  with  us, 
and  walk  '  miles  and  miles  and  miles  up  ladders, 
almost  to  the  sky'?" 

Sydney  looked  at  the  tower,  standing  grey 
and  tall  outlined  sharply  on  the  blue,  and  then 
at  Miss  Osric.  "  Should  you  like  it?  It  would 
be  lovely,  I  think." 

"  We  should  like  to  go  up  very  much  indeed, 
if  Mr.  Seaton  doesn't  mind  the  bother  of  us," 
said  Miss  Osric,  and  the  four  went  on  together 
to  Lislehurst  Church  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  village. 

The  church  itself  had  been  rebuilt  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  when  the  black  oak  panel- 
ling had  been  removed  as  "  dirty-looking"  and 
replaced  by  whitewash,  and  relieved  at  intervals 
by  the  St.  Quentin  Arms  painted  on  it  in  the 
gaudiest  colours.  At  the  same  time,  the  few 
bits  of  exquisite  stained  glass  which  had  survived 
a  visit  from  the  "  root  and  branch  "  men  of  the 
Commonwealth  days  had  been  taken  away 
to  make  room  for  a  complete  set  of  crudely 
coloured  windows,  which  vexed  the  soul  of  Mr. 


I2O  SYDNEY   LISLE 

Seaton  whenever  his  eyes  fell  upon  them.  But 
the  old  tower  had  been  left  intact,  and  was 
considered  by  the  learned  to  be  one  of  the 
finest  specimens  of  fourteenth  century  architec- 
ture left  in  England. 

There  was  a  tradition  that  the  saintly  Bishop 
Ken  had  once  climbed  it,  and  had  pronounced 
the  view  from  the  top  to  be  "a  foretaste  of 
Heaven." 

Sydney,  when  she  saw  the  perpendicular 
ladders  tied  together,  which  those  who  went 
beyond  the  belfry  chamber  were  compelled  to 
climb,  doubted  privately  the  probability  of  any- 
one so  old  and  frail  as  the  non-juring  Bishop 
had  grown  when  he  came  to  Blankshire,  having 
strength  or  breath  to  reach  the  summit ! 

"  You  are  not  frightened,  are  you  ? "  asked 
the  Vicar,  when  he  had  given  his  orders  to  the 
man  awaiting  him  in  the  belfry  chamber,  now 
emptied  of  its  dangling  ropes.  "  Don't  try  it, 
if  you  feel  in  the  least  bit  nervous,  for  it  is  a 
stiffish  climb ! " 

To  be  quite  honest,  Sydney  did  not  par- 
ticularly like  the  look  of  the  many  ladders  to 
be  scaled,  but  she  would  have  died  sooner  than 
own  her  fears. 

After  all,  this  was  not  so  very  much  more 
difficult  than  going  up  the  ladders  in  that  oast- 


ON    THE   CHURCH    TOWER  121 

house  in  Kent,  where  they  had  gone  to  see  the 
men  stamp  out  a  hop-pocket,  when  the  whole 
family  had  spent  that  happy  fortnight  in  a 
Kentish  farm-house  last  summer.  Only  then 
Hugh  had  been  there  to  help  her,  and  pull  her 
up  that  awkward  step  where  two  rungs  had 
gone  from  the  ladder.  Her  back  was  to  the 
Vicar,  but  Miss  Osric  saw  the  sudden  wistful- 
ness  in  the  girl's  grey  eyes. 

"Well,  come  on,  if  you  really  don't  feel 
nervous,"  Mr.  Seaton  said.  "  Oh,  Hiram,"  as 
the  old  clerk  came  stumbling  down  the  ladders 
at  the  sound  of  their  voices,  "  you  here  ?  That's 
just  as  well.  Now  you  can  go  up  in  front  and 
get  the  little  tower  door  open  for  the  ladies." 

"  Gentleman  up  the  tower  now,  sir,"  Hiram 
said,  touching  his  battered  hat. 

"All  right;  he  won't  interfere  with  us,"  the 
Vicar  said.  "  Now,  Miss  Lisle,  will  you  go 
first,  and  take  Hiram's  hand  where  the  ladders 
cross.  Miss  Osric,  you  next.  Then  Pauly. 
Hold  tight,  you  little  monkey,  or  I'll  take  you 
down  again  !  I  '11  bring  up  the  rear,  and  then 
if  anybody  slips,  I'll  catch  them." 

The  procession  started,  Mr.  Seaton  keeping 
a  firm  grip  of  his  small  son's  blouse  the  whole 
time,  and  calling  at  intervals  directions  to  the 
others. 


122  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Up,  up  they  went,  clinging  to  the  ladders 
set  perpendicularly  against  the  rough  grey 
walls,  worn  with  the  lapse  of  time.  Higher 
and  higher  still  they  went,  till  Sydney  and 
Miss  Osric  felt  as  though  they  had  been 
climbing  for  hours  instead  of  minutes. 

The  elders  had  no  breath  for  speech,  but 
little  Pauly  chattered  unceasingly.  "  Did  these 
funny  stairs  go  right  up  into  Heaven  ?  Would 
there  be  angels  at  the  top  of  the  tower? 
Would  there  be  stars  ?  Would  there  be  at 
least  a  hole  through  which  Pauly  might  look 
into  Heaven  when  he  came  so  near  it?" 

Sydney  could  hear  his  shrill  little  voice 
talking  on,  and  his  father's  grave  tones  answer- 
ing him  now  and  then.  As  they  came  higher 
the  echoes  caught  up  the  two  voices  and 
made  the  old  tower  ring  with  them  in  a  way 
that  sounded  strange  and  very  eerie,  Sydney 
thought. 

"Getting  tired,  Miss  Lisle?"  called  the 
Vicar  cheerily,  as  she  set  foot  on  the  highest 
ladder. 

His  words  must  have  been  heard  by  "  the 
gentleman"  of  whom  old  Hiram  had  spoken, 
for  a  square  of  blue  and  sunshine  opened 
suddenly  above  her,  and,  as  she  toiled  up  the 
final  rungs,  a  hand,  whose  touch  was  certainly 


ON    THE   CHURCH   TOWER  123 

familiar,  grasped  hers,  and  swung  her  over 
that  last  awkward  step,  where  she  seemed  to 
hang  over  a  yawning  black  gulf  for  a  moment, 
before  landing  upon  terra  firma  outside  the 
tower. 

"Hugh!"  She  had  forgotten  everything  for 
the  moment,  except  the  joy  of  seeing  him 
again,  but  in  an  instant,  like  a  bitter  wind, 
her  cousin's  words  swept  back  upon  her — 
"  I  forbid  you  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
that  young  man." 

Hugh  could  not  think  why  she  withdrew 
her  hand,  and  went  back  to  the  little  low 
tower  door  with  a  cloud  on  the  face  that  had 
been  so  bright  a  minute  since.  "  How  slow 
the  others  are  in  getting  up ! "  she  said. 

Hugh  watched  her  uneasily,  as  she  gave 
her  hand  to  Miss  Osric  and  helped  her  through 
the  doorway ;  then  proceeded  to  the  same 
office  for  little  Pauly.  Surely  it  was  very 
unlike  Sydney  to  have  nothing  to  say  to 
him,  to  be  absorbed  in  these  comparative 
strangers,  when  he  was  at  her  elbow.  Surely 
her  manner  had  changed  with  extraordinary 
speed  since  yesterday. 

She  on  her  part  had  been  rapidly  consider- 
ing the  situation.  It  was  plainly  impossible 
to  go  down  the  tower  again  the  very  minute 


124  SYDNEY    LISLE 

after  she  had  come  up  it.  What  excuse  could 
she  make  that  had  the  slightest  sound  of  reason  ? 
None,  she  was  quite  aware.  Plainly  the  only 
thing  that  she  could  do  was  to  obey  her  cousin's 
order  in  the  spirit  though  not  in  the  letter. 

She  was  rather  pale,  but  her  voice  was 
steady  as  she  bent  over  little  Pauly,  devoting 
herself  to  answering  his  many  questions. 

Mr.  Seaton  talked  to  Miss  Osric  and  to 
Hugh,  who  answered  him  a  little  absently. 
His  eyes  were  fixed  on  Sydney.  The  Vicar 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  a  rather  puzzled 
way  from  time  to  time,  as  he  did  the  honours 
of  the  splendid  view  that  lay  before  them. 

Glimpses  of  the  Castle  showed  through  its 
encircling  trees,  but  in  summer,  Mr.  Seaton 
said,  when  all  the  leaves  were  out,  it  was  com- 
pletely hidden. 

He  pointed  out  in  succession  the  quaint 
little  villages,  dotted  at  intervals  about  the 
valley,  with  some  interesting  comment  upon 
each.  There  was  Loam,  which  boasted  the 
finest  chancel-screen  in  the  county.  Miss 
Lisle  and  Miss  Osric  ought  to  see  it  one  of 
these  bright  days  :  it  was  most  distinctly  worth 
the  trouble  of  a  visit.  That  tiny  church,  with 
a  tower  that  looked  as  though  some  giant  had 
sat  upon  it  long  ago,  was  Marston.  Did  Mr. 


ON    THE   CHURCH   TOWER  125 

Chichester  remember  a  humorous  account  in 
the  papers  two  or  three  years  back,  of  a  famous 
"  kill "  which  had  taken  place  in  Marston 
churchyard,  when  the  fox  had  taken  refuge  in 
one  of  the  old  stone  box  tombs,  and  held  the 
narrow  entry,  worn  by  age  and  weather  in  the 
stone,  for  full  an  hour? 

Styles  and  Hurstleigh  lay  out  yonder ;  it 
was  in  Hurstleigh  that  the  Manor  stood,  which 
a  loyal  lady  of  the  Civil  Wars  had  defended 
against  General  Ireton,  till  relieved  by  her 
husband  just  as  the  little  garrison  were  re- 
duced to  the  last  straits. 

At  another  time  Sydney  would  have  been 
immensely  interested  in  the  story,  but  to-day 
somehow  she  could  not  care  even  to  see  the 
place  where  Madam  Courtenay  caught  the 
first  glimpse  of  the  scarlet  mantled  horsemen, 
riding  to  her  succour  only  just  in  time. 

She  could  not  put  herself  to-day  into  the 
place  of  the  cavalier  lady  and  rejoice  with  her ; 
she  could  only  feel  herself,  Sydney  Lisle,  be- 
having in  a  horrid,  stiff,  unkind  way  to  the 
brother  Hugh,  who  kept  looking  at  her  with 
those  troubled,  questioning  eyes. 

Miss  Osric  was  the  only  member  of  the 
party  who  really  enjoyed  Mr.  Seaton's  explana- 
tions, for  little  Pauly  thought  them  dull  to  the 


126  SYDNEY    LISLE 

last  degree.  He  wanted  to  know  several 
things,  and  no  one  would  attend  to  his  shrill 
questions.  Sydney  was  looking  where  Mr. 
Seaton  pointed,  with  unseeing  eyes,  and  his 
father  took  no  notice  of  various  impatient  tugs 
at  his  hand.  Pauly  wanted  dreadfully  to  know 
why  the  sky  had  gone  away  again,  instead  of 
being  quite  near  as  he  had  expected,  and 
whether  mother  and  the  angels  would  hear  him 
if  he  were  to  call  up  to  them  very  loudly,  now 
this  minute,  and  whether  a  big  man,  who  was 
big  enough  to  lean  over  the  stone  parapet  of 
the  tower  which  his  own  head  barely  reached, 
could  see  "In  Memory  of  Rose"  on  the  white 
marble  cross  in  the  churchyard  down  below. 

Hugh,  to  pacify  him,  looked  over,  and  pro- 
nounced that  he  could  see  "  no  end  of  crosses." 

But  this  by  no  means  satisfied  Pauly.  Hugh 
must  see  that  special  grave  where  Daddy  took 
him  every  Sunday,  after  service. 

"  Tell  me  where  to  look,"  Hugh  said  ;  "  but 
you  keep  still,  young  man,  if  you  please. 
Don't  you  go  trying  to  lean  over !  " 

He  stared  down.  "Is  your  cross  a  tall  one, 
near  a  tree  ?  "  he  asked  presently.  Pauly  gave 
a  bound  of  delight. 

"Yes,  that's  where  '  In  memorwy  of  Wose ' 
is.  Do  you  see  the  lovely  holly  on  the  grave  ? 


ON    THE   CHURCH    TOWER  127 

I  stuck  lots  in  the  tin,  I  did  weally,  and  my 
fingers  was  all  bleedy  after.  I  didn't  mind. 
Boys  don't  mind  being  bleedy.  'Spect  that 
big  girl  that  you  keep  on  looking  at  would 
mind.  Girls  cwy  when  they're  bleedy,  don't 
they  ?  Do  you  cwy  ?  I  s'pose  not,  'cause 
you're  a  big  man.  Did  you  see  my  lovely 
holly  ?  No,  you  won't  see  where  you  are. 
Oh,  look !  You  can  see  my  lovely  holly  this 
side  of  the  tower  as  well." 

"  I  say — stand  still !  "  Hugh  said  sharply, 
turning  his  head  round.  Pauly,  in  a  state  of 
wild  excitement,  was  climbing  up  the  three- 
foot  parapet  as  nimbly  as  a  cat.  "  Get  down !  " 
Hugh  shouted,  springing  to  his  feet,  and  dart- 
ing over  to  the  child.  He  spoke  too  late. 

Pauly  had  reached  the  top,  and  was  kneeling 
on  it,  peering  down  upon  his  "lovely  holly." 
"  Oh,  I  can  see  it !  I  can  see  my  holly !  "  he 
screamed  joyfully,  clinging  and  laughing. 

Whether  the  height  turned  him  giddy,  or 
he  lost  his  balance  by  leaning  too  far,  no  one 
knew.  There  was  only  time  for  a  cry  of  horror, 
and  a  frantic  grasp  into  emptiness  upon  Hugh's 
part.  The  child  had  fallen  from  the  parapet ! 

The  poor  father  staggered  backward,  his 
hand  to  his  head — the  two  girls  clung  to- 
gether, speechless ;  only  Hugh  was  able  to 


128  SYDNEY    LISLE 

look  over.  The  next  moment  he  was  shaking 
Mr.  Seaton  fiercely  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Quick,  sir !  Down  and  cut  the  belfry  ropes. 
Please  God,  we'll  save  him  yet ! " 

The  Vicar,  scarcely  able  to  believe  his  ears, 
looked  over. 

Some  nine  feet  down  the  tower,  at  each 
corner,  a  large  projecting  gargoyle  served  the 
purpose  of  a  water-spout,  and  it  was  on  one 
of  these  little  Pauly  had  fallen — the  creature's 
stone  ear  having  caught  his  blouse  as  he 
bumped  against  it  in  his  fall.  He  was  lying 
on  his  back  across  the  gargoyle's  neck,  his  legs 
and  head  swinging  into  space,  his  frock  hitched 
half  across  the  hideous  head.  He  was  still  at 
the  moment,  but  how  long  would  he  remain 
so  ?  Below  him  was  a  drop  of  seventy  feet. 

Hugh  flung  off  his  coat,  and  put  his  leg 
over  the  parapet.  "  Hurry  with  the  ropes  ; 
I'll  go  to  him." 

"  No,  no,  not  you ! "  the  Vicar  cried.  "  I 
must." 

But  Hugh  was  already  letting  himself  down. 
"  Quick  with  the  ropes ! "  was  all  he  said. 

Sydney  and  Miss  Osric  looked  at  one  another. 
"  The  belfry  ropes  are  gone ! " 

Before  they  had  finished  speaking,  Mr. 
Seaton  was  tearing  in  a  neck-or-nothing  fashion 


" '  Quick  with  the  ropes  ! '  was  all  he  said." 


(Page  128) 


ON    THE   CHURCH    TOWER 

down  the  ladders.  It  was  well  for  him  that 
he  was  forced  to  act,  and  not  wait  to  think. 
Ropes  must  be  got,  and  immediately,  for  what 
ladder  would  be  long  enough  ?  He  did  not  even 
cast  one  glance  back  at  the  tower  as  he  rushed 
through  the  churchyard  in  search  of  a  rope. 

There  was  nothing  that  Miss  Osric  and 
Sydney  had  the  power  to  do  but  wait  and 
pray.  They  clung  to  one  another  silently, 
with  set,  white  faces,  as  Hugh  commenced  his 
difficult  and  dangerous  descent,  with  one  eye 
on  the  little  figure,  which  might  move  and  be 
dashed  from  its  precarious  resting-place  at  any 
moment.  Was  the  child  stunned?  Hugh 
almost  hoped  he  might  be.  Any  movement 
must  almost  certainly  be  fatal  to  his  balance. 

But  as  the  young  man  felt  carefully  his 
third  step  in  that  perilous  climb,  there  was  a 
quiver  in  the  dark  blue  bundle  on  the  gargoyle, 
and  a  scared  little  face  was  uplifted  to  his. 
The  hearts  of  the  girls  above  stood  still. 

Hugh  was  struggling  desperately  for  a  foot- 
hold which  it  seemed  impossible  to  find. 
Would  the  child  move,  or  look  down  ?  Should 
he  do  so,  nothing  could  save  him. 

"  It's  all  right,  old  chap!"  Hugh  called  in 
his  cheeriest  tone.  "  You  just  keep  still  where 
you  are.  Yes,  that's  right ;  now  look  at  me. 


SYDNEY    LISLE 

I'm  coming  down  to  take  you  up  again.  No, 
don't  try  and  sit  up — you  can  see  me  splendidly 
from  where  you  are." 

His  voice  broke  off,  as  he  all  but  lost  both 
hold  and  footing.  He  regained  it  with  a  frantic 
struggle  and  descended  another  step.  "  Look 
at  me,  Pauly!" 

Pauly's  round  eyes  gazed  up  wonderingly. 
Hugh  neared  the  gargoyle,  and  set  his  teeth 
for  a  mighty  effort. 

Pauly  was  a  particularly  large  and  strong 
boy  for  not  quite  five  years  old,  and,  even  on 
firm  ground,  would  be  no  joke  to  lift  in  one 
hand.  But  the  thing  must  be  done.  Hugh 
strengthened  his  hold  with  his  right  hand,  and 
took  an  anxious  downward  glance.  Some  of 
the  village  men  were  trying  to  join  ladders, 
but  they  were  far  too  short.  Mr.  Seaton  was 
running  frantically  up  the  road  beyond  the 
churchyard,  with  a  coil  of  rope  on  his  arm. 
In  the  clear  air  Hugh  could  see  his  upturned 
face,  dead  white,  with  eyes  staring  wildly. 

He  could  not  possibly  get  through  the 
churchyard  and  up  the  tower  in  less  than  ten 
minutes — Hugh  thought  he  would  probably 
take  longer.  It  was  not  therefore  possible  to 
risk  leaving  Pauly  on  the  gargoyle  till  he  him- 
self should  have  the  help  of  a  rope. 


ON    THE   CHURCH    TOWER  133 

He  took  the  firmest  grip  he  could  of  the 
roughened  stonework  of  the  tower  with  feet 
and  right  hand,  and  loosed  cautiously  the  other, 
reaching  with  it  towards  the  blue  bundle  on 
the  gargoyle.  "  Steady,  Pauly,  keep  quite  still, 
old  chap ! " 

With  a  struggle  that  brought  beads  of  per- 
spiration out  upon  his  forehead  and  nearly  sent 
him  flying  into  space,  he  grasped  the  child, 
and  raised  him  slowly  from  his  resting-place  ; 
then  stepped  down  on  to  the  gargoyle,  and 
stood  there,  clasping  Pauly  closely,  and  leaning 
back  against  the  wall  with  closed  eyes. 

He  was  too  physically  exhausted  with  the 
terrible  anxiety  and  effort  of  the  last  few 
minutes  to  make  any  further  movement  then. 
Besides,  it  was  now  a  necessity  to  wait  for 
the  rope.  The  upward  climb  would  be  im- 
possible when  burdened  by  the  well-grown  boy. 

He  had  to  concentrate  all  his  powers  on 
keeping  steady  on  the  slender  foothold,  which 
was  all  the  gargoyle  afforded,  and  waiting  for 
the  help  which  Mr.  Seaton  would  bring. 

It  seemed  hours  before  a  shout  from  above 
came  down  cheerily  to  him,  and  a  rope  end 
struck  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  Now,  Pauly,'1 
he  said,  "  hold  on  round  my  neck  for  all  you're 
worth,  there's  a  good  little  chap !  ° 

9 


134  SYDNEY   LISLE 

He  took  a  firm  grip  of  the  child's  blouse  in 
his  teeth,  and,  steadying  himself  with  infinite 
difficulty,  fastened  the  rope  beneath  his  own 
arms,  in  the  strongest  knots  that  he  could 
make.  Then,  using  his  hands  as  a  trumpet, 
he  called  "  Ready  !  " 

His  left  arm  was  round  Pauly,  his  right 
grasped  the  rope  above  his  head.  "  Now  hold 
tight,  little  chap,  and  don't  be  frightened  !  " 

Pauly  carried  out  this  order  by  taking  as 
good  a  grip  as  the  hair-cutter  allowed  of  Hugh's 
head,  and  it  was  in  this  position  that  the  two 
were  at  length  hauled  over  the  parapet  by  the 
united  strength  of  the  Vicar,  Hiram,  and  the 
Vicarage  gardener,  whom  Mr.  Seaton  had  met 
while  searching  for  a  rope. 

Mr.  Seaton  wrung  Hugh's  hand  in  silence, 
and  held  his  son  to  him,  in  silence  also.  No 
one  seemed  to  have  much  voice  for  speech 
just  then  ;  even  Pauly  was  subdued  and  shaken 
by  his  fall,  though  he  had  escaped  with  nothing 
worse  than  grazed  knees. 

The  descent  from  the  tower  was  very  quiet 
and  sober.  A  strong  shudder  went  through 
the  party  as  they  passed  the  belfry  chamber 
and  thought  about  the  awful  moment  when 
they  had  realised  that  the  ropes  were  gone. 

His  father  carried   Pauly,  and   Hugh  went 


ON    THE   CHURCH    TOWER  135 

in  front  of  Sydney  and  Miss  Osric,  and  gave 
them  his  hand  where  the  ladders  turned.  He 
and  Sydney  never  spoke  the  whole  way  down. 

They  were  in  the  churchyard  at  last,  and 
Pauly  was  demanding  to  be  shown  "  the  funny 
little  step  where  me  and  him  was  standing." 
The  Vicar,  shivering,  hushed  him,  and  turned 
to  Hugh.  "  You'll  come  in  and  lunch  with 
me  ?  "  he  said,  a  little  huskily,  his  hand  upon 
the  young  man's  shoulder. 

"  Thank  you,  I  will,"  Hugh  answered 
gravely. 

"  And,  Sydney,  we  must  hurry  back,"  Miss 
Osric  suggested.  "  I  am  sure  it  is  getting  late." 

Sydney  moved  a  step  away ;  then  took  a 
sudden  resolution. 

She  went  to  Hugh  and  held  out  her  hand. 
"Good-bye,  Hugh.  Please  understand,"  she 
said  very  low. 

Hugh  took  the  little  gloved  hand  in  his,  and 
read  rightly  the  trouble  in  her  eyes. 

"  It's  all  right — don't  you  bother,  Syd,"  he 
said.  "  I  understand." 


CHAPTER    XII 

MERRY     CHRISTMAS 

"  WHAT  a  lot  of  times  I  seem  to  have  said 
'  Merry  Christmas '  this  afternoon  !  "  Sydney 
remarked  as  she  and  Miss  Osric  went  round 
the  village  in  Sydney's  little  pony  carriage  with 
the  pair  of  lovely  little  bay  ponies  she  so  much 
enjoyed  driving.  "  And  the  sad  thing  is,  that 
nobody  here  seems  to  feel  particularly  happy," 
she  went  on.  "  Mrs.  Andrews,  to  whom  I 
took  that  crossover  just  now,  said — '  It  was 
hard  enough  to  feel  joyful  when  her  man  was 
bent  double  with  rheumatism  from  the  damp- 
ness of  his  cottage ! '  Miss  Osric,  are  the 
cottages  in  very  bad  repair  here  ?  Lord 
Braemuir  seemed  to  think  so,  and  so  do  the 
people  who  live  in  them.  But  when  I  asked 
Lady  Frederica  she  said — '  Poor  people  always 
grumbled  ;  if  it  wasn't  one  thing,  it  was  sure 
to  be  another ! '  What  do  you  think  ?" 

Miss  Osric  hesitated  for  a  little  while  before 
replying. 

"  Well,  Sydney,"  she  said  at  length,  "  I  dor't 
136 


MERRY    CHRISTMAS  137 

know  whether  I  ought  to  tell  you  this,  but  it 
seems  to  me  right  you  should  know  something 
of  the  cottages  on  the  estate.  It  will  be  your 
business  to  know  by-and-by.  You  know  my 
father  is  chaplain  to  the  hospital  at  Donisbro', 
and  he  has  often  told  me  that  the  amount  of 
cases  coming  from  the  cottages  on  this  estate 
is  appalling.  People  have  been  brought  to  the 
hospital  from  Loam  and  Lislehurst,  and  even 
Styles,  where  the  ground  is  higher,  simply 
crippled  with  rheumatism,  and  off  and  on  there 
have  been  a  good  many  cases  of  diphtheria  and 
fever.  That  doesn't  speak  well  for  the  cottages, 
you  know." 

Sydney  pulled  up  the  ponies  in  the  middle  of 
the  road. 

"  I  shall  ask  Mr.  Fenton,"  she  said  slowly ; 
"  I  don't  think  I  could  ask  St.  Quentin." 

"  I  think  asking  Mr.  Fenton  is  not  at  all  a 
bad  idea,"  Miss  Osric  said  cordially;  "but,  my 
dear  Sydney,  we  mustn't  dawdle  here  in  the 
cold  even  to  discuss  points  of  duty.  Have  you 
any  more  presents  to  distribute  ? " 

"  Just  one  for  Pauly  at  the  Vicarage,"  the 
girl  said,  gathering  up  the  reins  again ;  "  that 
is  the  parcel  underneath  the  seat  that  you  said 
took  up  as  much  room  as  we  did.  It's  a  horse 
and  waggon — a  horse  with  real  hair — and  I 


138  SYDNEY    LISLE 

think  Pauly  will  be  able  to  get  himself  into  the 
waggon  if  he  tucks  his  legs  up.  I'm  sure  he 
will  be  pleased — the  darling !  " 

"  I  wonder  how  long  that  quarter's  allowance 
is  going  to  last,"  laughed  Miss  Osric,  as  they 
turned  the  ponies'  heads  up  the  drive  to  the 
Vicarage.  "  You've  been  so  lavish  over  Christ- 
mas presents,  Sydney  ;  that  parcel  for  London 
alone  must  have  nearly  ruined  you ! " 

"  I  am  rather  near  bankruptcy,"  owned 
Sydney.  "It  is  shocking  to  confess,  but  I 
never  had  such  a  lot  of  money  to  spend  in  my 
life,  and  I  went  and  spent  it.  But  I  am  not  a  bit 
sorry,"  she  concluded,  "  for,  just  for  once,  they 
will  have  at  home  exactly  what  they  wanted." 

Pauly  had  seen  them  coming  from  the  window 
of  his  father's  study,  against  which  he  was 
flattening  his  small  round  nose  till  it  looked 
exactly  like  a  white  button.  He  flew  to  the 
door  and  cast  himself  upon  them  in  the  hall 
with  a  shriek  of  delight. 

"  Oh,  do  you  know,  it's  going  to  be  Chwistmas 
Day  to-morrow ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  and  I  am 
going  to  church  in  the  morning  like  a  big  man, 
and  Santa  Claus  is  coming  in  the  night,  daddy 
finks,  to  put  fings  in  my  stocking,  'cause  I've 
been  a  very  good  boy  for  years  and  not  runned 
away  or  been  lostened!" 


MERRY   CHRISTMAS  139 

The  Vicar,  too,  was  not  behindhand  in  his 
welcome,  though  he  was  not  quite  so  conversa- 
tional as  his  little  son. 

"Come  into  the  study,  both  of  you,"  he  said  ; 
"  we've  got  a  real  Yule  log  there,  haven't  we, 
Pauly? — such  a  monster! — and  I'm  sure  you 
must  be  frozen." 

The  Sydney  of  six  weeks  ago  would  have 
accepted  Mr.  Seaton's  offer,  but  the  Sydney  of 
to-day  had  learned  to  think  what  would  annoy 
her  cousin  and  Lady  Frederica. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  must  hurry  back,  mustn't  we, 
Miss  Osric?"  she  said.  "We  shall  be  rather 
late  as  it  is.  We  have  been  all  round  the 
village,  wishing  ever  so  many  people  a  happy 
Christmas,  so  we  must  only  just  wish  the  same 
to  you,  and  ask  you  to  tell  Santa  Claus  to  see 
if  he  can't  find  a  rather  large,  knobby  parcel  in 
the  corner  of  the  hall  for  Pauly,  when  he  comes 
to  visit  you  to-night." 

"It's  very  good  of  you,"  said  the  Vicar. 
"  Pauly,  don't  tear  Miss  Lisle's  clothes  to 
pieces  in  your  joy.  You  spoil  him,  you  know, 
Miss  Lisle,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  say  so. 
Well,  if  you  must  go,  a  very  happy  Christmas 
to  you  both  !  You  are  going  the  right  way 
to  make  it  a  happy  one,  I  think." 

"  Mr.    Seaton,    one   thing,"    Sydney   asked 


I4O  SYDNEY    LISLE 

as  they  went  through  the  hall  together.  "  Are 
the  people  miserable  here  because  their  cottages 
want  rebuilding  ?  " 

Mr.  Seaton  looked  at  the  earnest  face  beside 
him,  and  wondered  if  the  wish  to  help  her 
poorer  neighbours  would  continue  when  she 
had  the  power. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  own  that 
most  of  the  cottages  here  are  in  a  very 
neglected  condition.  But  landlords  have  no 
easy  time  of  it,  I  know,  and  often  lack  the 
means  to  do  all  they  want." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Sydney,  and  then  she 
kissed  little  Pauly,  and  she  and  Miss  Osric 
got  into  the  carriage  and  drove  away,  the 
Vicar  watching  them,  with  his  small  son, 
riotous  and  conversational,  on  his  shoulder,  till 
they  turned  out  into  the  road  again. 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  knew  anybody  more 
devoted  to  a  child  than  that  man  is,"  said 
Miss  Osric,  as  they  reached  the  lodge  gates. 
"  What  would  he  have  done  if  he  had  lost 
him  the  other  day  ?  " 

"Oh,  don't  talk  about  that  dreadful  morning!" 
said  Sydney  with  a  shiver. 

Lady  Frederica  had  no  love  for  Christmas. 

"  One  is  expected  to  be  so  aggressively 
cheerful  and  social,"  she  complained,  "  when 


MERRY    CHRISTMAS  141 

one  is  really  feeling  bored  to  extinction ! 
And  now  St.  Quentin's  illness  casts  a  gloom 
over  everything ;  it  is  most  absurd  to  attempt 
any  feeling  of  festivity.  He  wouldn't  like  it 
at  all." 

"  Did  Cousin  St.  Quentin  care  for  Christmas 
when  he  was  well  ? "  Sydney  asked  a  little 
wistfully. 

"  Well,  I  remember  one  year,  when  both 
his  father  and  mother  were  alive,  they  had 
the  regular  old-fashioned  sort  of  Christmas, 
and  he  certainly  seemed  to  enjoy  it.  The 
Dean  of  Donisbro'  and  his  daughter  Katharine 
were  here,  I  remember.  The  Dean  had 
slipped  upon  a  slide  some  tiresome  boy  had 
made  when  he  came  over  to  dine  here  the 
week  before  Christmas,  and  he  fell  and  sprained 
his  ankle.  Of  course  Dr.  Lorry  wouldn't  let 
him  travel,  so  St.  Quentin  got  poor  dear  Alicia, 
his  mother,  to  go  to  Donisbro'  herself  and 
bring  back  Miss  Morrell  to  spend  Christmas 
with  her  father.  There  were  only  those  two, 
you  see.  My  dear,  Katharine  Morrell  was 
a  pretty  girl  in  those  days  !  You've  seen  her, 
haven't  you?  but  she  has  gone  off  a  good 
deal.  I  fancy  St.  Quentin  admired  her  rather, 
but  it  didn't  come  to  anything,  though  we 
all  thought  it  would  that  Christmas-time.  But 


142  SYDNEY    LISLE 

she  was  a  good  deal  too  strait-laced  for  him, 
I  expect ;  not  that  he  was  worse  than  other 
young  man,  but  he  ran  through  a  lot  of  money 
on  cards  and  racing,  and  annoyed  his  poor 
father  very  much.  Oh !  Sir  Algernon,  is  that 
you  ? "  (Sir  Algernon  had  entered  at  the 
moment).  "  I  was  telling  Sydney  of  that 
Christmas  when  the  Dean  and  Miss  Morrell 
were  here.  I  forget  if  you  have  met  Katharine 
Morrell?" 

Sydney  saw  a  strange  expression  cross  the 
handsome  face  for  a  moment.  But  in  a 
second  he  had  answered  in  his  usual  rather 
languid  accents,  "  Yes,  I  know  her  slightly  ; 
very  slightly." 

Christmas  Day  dawned  clear  and  sunny 
and  Sydney,  as  she  stood  beside  Lady 
Frederica  in  the  Castle  pew  at  Lislehurst 
Church,  felt  something  of  the  joy  of  Christmas 
coming  to  her,  even  in  this  strange  place. 
She  smiled  across  at  little  Pauly,  who,  standing 
beside  Mr.  Seaton's  housekeeper,  was  singing, 
"  Hark !  the  herald  angels  sing  "  with  all  his 
might,  and  to  a  time  and  tune  quite  his  own. 

Mr.  Seaton's  sermon  was  very  short ;  he 
said  he  thought  the  Christmas  hymns  and 
carols  preached  a  better  sermon  than  he  had 
the  power  to  do.  He  only  as '.eel  his  people 


MERRY   CHRISTMAS  143 

to  remember  that  next  to  God's  glory,  the 
angels  had  set  peace  and  goodwill  upon  earth. 
The  second  followed  on  the  first.  He  wanted 
all  those  who  had  to-day  been  glorifying  God 
for  His  great  Christmas  Gift,  to  see  to  it 
that  peace  and  goodwill  was  not  lacking  in 
that  small  part  of  God's  earth  that  concerned 
each — his  or  her  own  home. 

Sydney  had  not  seen  her  cousin  since  her 
outburst  on  the  subject  of  the  Chichesters, 
and  her  conscience  pricked  her.  It  was  true 
that  St.  Quentin  had  expressed  no  wish  to  see 
her,  but  she  had  made  no  attempt  to  find 
out  if  he  had  one  unexpressed.  Surely  the 
first  move  towards  that  peace  and  goodwill  of 
which  Mr.  Seaton  spoke  should  come  from 
her! 

She  and  Lady  Frederica  drove  home  to- 
gether ;  Sydney  full  of  eagerness  for  the 
post,  which  would  have  come  while  they  were 
at  church. 

Lady  Frederica  laughed,  and  said  Sydney 
was  "  the  most  childish  girl  for  her  age  she  had 
ever  known "  ;  but  when  they  reached  the 
Castle,  she  fastened  a  dainty  little  pearl  brooch 
into  the  collar  of  the  girl's  frock,  with  a 
"  There,  my  dear,  is  a  Christmas  present  for 
you ! " 


144  SYDNEY   LISLE 

Sydney  was  a  good  deal  touched  by  this 
kindness  from  one  who  generally  seemed 
dissatisfied  with  her,  but  still  she  was  un- 
doubtedly relieved  when  Lady  Frederica  told 
her  that  she  might  take  her  parcels  and  letters 
to  her  rooms  and  amuse  herself  as  she  liked  till 
luncheon.  Lady  Frederica,  it  appeared,  was 
going  to  rest  after  the  tremendous  exertion  of 
getting  up  sufficiently  early  to  attend  eleven 
o'clock  service  ! 

Sydney  and  Miss  Osric  spent  a  blissful  hour 
over  the  letters  and  presents.  I  think  Sydney 
cried  a  little  over  those  with  the  London  post- 
mark, for  Christmas-time  with  its  associations 
had  made  her  more  homesick  than  she  knew. 

They  had  all  written  to  the  absent  one,  and 
there  were  presents  from  everybody.  No  one 
had  forgotten  her,  from  old  nurse  down  to 
Prissie.  Sydney  and  Miss  Osric  undid  parcels 
and  munched  home-made  toffee  with  a  noble 
disregard  for  the  spoiling  of  their  appetites, 
until  the  luncheon  gong  sounded,  by  which 
time  the  morning-room  where  they  were  sitting 
looked  exactly  like  a  Christmas  bazaar. 

But  Sydney  had  not  forgotten  her  morning's 
resolution,  and  when  lunch  was  over  and  Lady 
Frederica,  exhausted,  doubtless,  by  her  un- 
accustomed early  rising,  had  fallen  asleep  in 


MERRY    CHRISTMAS  145 

her  chair,  Sydney  got  up  and  moved  softly 
from  the  gold  drawing-room,  crossed  the  hall, 
and  tapped  lightly  at  the  door  of  the  library. 

"  Come  in,"  said  St.  Quentin's  voice. 

Sir  Algernon  was  with  his  host,  and  both 
men  looked  up  as  she  entered.  The  excite- 
ment of  the  home  letters  had  brought  a  flush  to 
her  face,  and  her  eyes  were  very  bright.  Sir 
Algernon  let  his  cigarette  drop  from  between 
his  fingers  as  he  looked  at  her.  "  By  Jove  !  " 
he  muttered. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  interrupt  you,"  said  Sydney, 
flushing  under  his  cool  survey.  "I  only" — 
with  an  unconsciously  appealing  glance  in  the 
direction  of  the  sofa — "  I  only  came  to  give  my 
Christmas  wishes  to  you,  Cousin  St.  Quentin." 

"  Thanks,"  said  St.  Quentin,  holding  out  his 
hand  to  her.  "  You're  going  for  a  stroll  'in  the 
park,  aren't  you,  Bridge  ?  " 

"Ah,  yes,  of  course  I  am,"  his  friend 
answered.  "  Have  a  look  round  at  the  timber, 
eh,  Quin  ?  Miss  Lisle,  I  hope  you  made  my 
humble  apologies  to  the  Vicar  for  not  attending 
church  this  morning.  Oh,  all  right ! "  in 
answer  to  a  rather  impatient  sound  from  the 
sofa.  "I'm  off,  old  man.  Ta-ta ! " 

He  lounged  out,  and  Sydney  felt  relieved  by 
his  absence. 


f46  SYDNEY   LISLE 

"  You  don't  like  Bridge  ?  "  her  cousin  asked 
her  quickly. 

Sydney  was  uncompromising  in  her  views  at 
all  times.  "  Not  at  all,"  she  said. 

If  she  had  been  looking  at  St.  Quentin  at 
the  moment  she  would  have  seen  an  expression 
of  relief  on  his  face  at  her  answer.  But  she 
was  looking  round  the  room,  which  certainly 
was  rather  untidy. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  the  hearth  swept,  and 
these  cards  put  away  in  their  case,  and  the 
papers  in  a  drawer  ?  "  she  asked  her  cousin. 
"  I  don't  believe  Dickson  has  been  in  here 
since  this  morning,  has  he  ?  " 

"  No,  Bridge  and  I  were  talking  private 
business." 

"  Shall  I  put  away  the  papers,  Cousin  St. 
Quentin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  the  second  drawer  of  the  writing- 
table,  left  hand  side.  Lock  it,  please,  and  give 
me  the  key." 

She  obeyed  him,  then  swept  up  the  hearth, 
regardless  of  his  "  Ring  for  Dickson ! "  and 
finally  sat  down  in  the  great  brown  leather 
chair  by  the  fireside. 

"  Cousin  St.  Quentin,  may  I  ask  you  one  or 
two  questions  ?  " 

"Yes." 


MERRY    CHRISTMAS  147 

"  Musi  you  do  business  with  Sir  Algernon  ? 
I  am  sure  it  can't  be  very  good  for  you.  You 
are  looking  much  more  ill.  I  don't  think  Dr. 
Lorry  would  like  it." 

He  smiled  a  little  at  her  grandmotherly 
tone. 

"  Is  it  to  do  with  money  ?  "  she  asked,  with 
a  remembrance  of  a  certain  pucker  on  father's 
brow,  which  Christmas  bills  brought  with 
them. 

"  Partly  ;  not  all.  Let's  talk  of  something 
else,  instead  of  boring  you  with  my  affairs, " 
her  cousin  said. 

"  They  don't  bore  me.  Of  course  I  care  to 
know  your  bothers  !  "  she  declared. 

He  raised  his  eyebrows  and  looked  at  her 
in  a  considering  kind  of  way.  "  Do  you  ? 
I  wonder  why  ?  "  He  laughed  a  little.  "  Go 
ahead  and  talk  to  me,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me 
what  you've  done  to-day.  I  suppose  you  had 
letters  by  the  ream  from  your  beloved 
Chichesters  ?  " 

Sydney  reddened,  remembering  their  last 
interview  upon  that  subject.  Her  cousin 
seemed  to  recollect  it  too. 

"  Has  it  ever  struck  you  that  you'll  have 
a  much  better  time  of  it  when  I'm  gone?"  he 
said.  "  As  long  as  you  look  pretty  and  walk 


148  SYDNEY   LISLE 

into  a  room  the  right  way,  Aunt  Rica  won't 
interfere  with  you  much." 

"  How  can  you  ? "  the  girl  cried,  with  hot 
indignation.  "  I  hate  to  hear  you  talk  like 
that !  Why,  you've  been  very  kind  to  me — 
except  about  the  Chichesters  ! " 

"  And  that's  a  rather  big  exception,  isn't 
it?"  St.  Quentin  said.  "You  haven't  got 
much  cause  to  like  me,  Sydney." 

Something  in  the  sadness  of  his  tone 
appealed  to  her  pity. 

"I  do  care  about  you  ! "  she  said.  "  You 
say  those  horrid  things  about  the  Chichesters 
just  because  you  don't  understand,  that's  all. 
Some  day,  perhaps,  you  will  know  that  one 
couldrit  give  up  loving  people,  even  if  one 
tried.  But  I  do  care  about  you,  really  !  I  think 
you  are  the  very  bravest  person  that  I  ever 
met!" 

St.  Quentin  did  not  answer  for  a  minute, 
and  when  he  spoke,  though  it  was  lightly, 
his  voice  was  not  quite  so  steady  as  usual. 

"Is  it  very  rude  to  suggest  to  a  lady, 
who  is  going  to  reach  the  advanced  age  of 
eighteen  in  a  few  days'  time,  that  her  experience 
of  life  may  possibly  be  limited  ? "  he  said. 
"My  dear  child,  I  regret  to  say  you're  out 
in  your  conception  of  my  character.  I  am  a 


MERRY    CHRISTMAS  149 

coward.  Of  course,  I  hope  one  is  enough  of 
a  man  not  to  make  a  fuss  over  the  inevitable, 
by  which  I  mean  the  consequences  of  my 
motor-smash.  What  is,  is,  and  only  fools 
whine  over  it.  But  for  all,  that,  I'm  a  coward. 
There,  let's  talk  of  something  else!"  He 
leaned  back  and  closed  his  eyes.  "  Tell  me 
what  you  like." 

And  Sydney  told  him  about  Lady  Frederica 
and  her  present ;  about  Pauly  and  the  hymn  ; 
and  everything  else  she  could  think  of  that 
might  amuse  or  interest  him. 

She  told  of  the  knobby  parcels  they  had 
taken  round  the  village  in  the  pony-carriage 
yesterday,  and  of  the  fright  of  one  old  woman 
when  a  rolled-up  pair  of  thick  stockings  had 
slipped  from  Sydney's  over-laden  arms,  and 
gone  rolling  across  the  kitchen  floor  to  her 
very  feet. 

Suddenly  she  stopped  her  merry  talk,  and 
her  eyes  took  a  thoughtful  expression. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  her  cousin 
asked,  looking  across  at  the  creamy-gowned 
figure  in  the  brown  chair. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  cottages,"  she 
answered.  "  They  are  so  wretched  and  so  damp, 
St.  Quentin,  and  the  people  told  me  there 
could  be  no  'Merry  Christmas'  for  them!" 

10 


150  SYDNEY    LISLE 

"  That  meddling  parson  has  been  putting 
you  up  to  that  idea,  I  suppose ! "  he  said 
sharply. 

"No,  I  saw  the  cottages  for  myself.  Oh,  St. 
Quentin,  can't  something  be  done  ?  " 

"  Nothing !  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  troubled  eyes.  "  I 
expect  /  cost  a  good  deal  of  money.  Couldn't 
I  have  fewer  frocks  and  things  of  that  kind  ? 
Or  perhaps,"  with  an  effort,  "we  might  sell 
Bessie  :  keeping  a  horse  is  so  expensive,  I've 
heard  father  say." 

St.  Quentin's  voice  was  stern  as  he  stopped 
her.  "  Don't  talk  of  what  you  do  not  under- 
stand. I  can  do  nothing  for  the  cottages  at 
present.  If  it's  any  consolation  to  you,  I  will 
tell  you  this — I  wish  I  could.  There ;  talk  of 
something  else,  for  goodness'  sake !  " 

She  talked  on,  though  feeling  little  in  the 
mood  for  conversation,  and  was  rewarded  by 
his  exclamation  of  astonishment  on  learning 
the  lateness  of  the  hour  when  Dickson  came 
in  to  light  the  lamp. 

"  Why,  I've  kept  you  here  two  mortal  hours, 
forgetting  all  about  the  time  ;  you  must  be  sick 
of  me !  A  nice  way  to  make  you  spend  your 
Christmas  Day !  However,  you've  made  mine  a 
bit  more  cheerful." 


MERRY    CHRISTMAS 

As  the  girl  passed  his  sofa  on  the  way  to  the 
door,  he  took  her  hand,  saying,  "  Have  you 
forgiven  me  for  what  I  said  about  the  Chichesters 
the  other  day  ?  " 

And  Sydney,  remembering  that  morning's 
sermon,  said  "  Yes,"  with  all  her  heart. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

HUGH'S   BATTLE 

"WHAT'S  the  matter,  Hugh?" 

Dr.  Chichester  flung  the  question  suddenly 
into  the  deep  silence  which  had  fallen  on  himself 
and  his  son,  as  they  sat  together  by  the  study 
fire  on  a  cold  night  shortly  after  Christmas. 

They  had  done  a  little  talking. 

Dr.  Chichester  had  said  it  was  a  bitter  night, 
and  Hugh  had  assented.  The  doctor  had  re- 
marked that  a  fire  and  a  book  were  wonderfully 
soothing  after  a  long  day's  work,  and  Hugh 
had  owned  the  fact.  The  doctor  had  opined 
that  if  the  frost  lasted,  there  would  shortly  be 
skating  on  the  Serpentine.  Hugh  had  agreed 
to  that  as  well,  but  in  so  absent  and  spiritless  a 
manner  that  his  father  plainly  saw  he  took  no 
interest  whatever  in  the  skating  prospects  at 
the  present  moment. 

And  after  these  attempts  at  conversation, 
silence  had  fallen  on  them,  and  the  doctor, 


HUGH  S    BATTLE  153 

forgetful  of  the  book  upon  his  knee,  closely 
scrutinised  the  young  face  before  him,  with  its 
dark,  sad  eyes  fixed  on  the  glowing  fire. 

Hugh  had  been  curiously  silent  ever  since 
that  visit  to  Donisbro',  his  father  thought  to 
himself. 

And  yet,  how  pleased  he  had  been  at  being 
singled  out  by  Sir  Anthony  to  go  with  him  ! 
And  he  had  come  back,  having  done  everything 
required  of  him  successfully  enough,  so  far  as 
his  father  could  make  out.  But  he  had  been 
very  uncommunicative  over  his  adventures  in 
the  quaint  cathedral  city. 

It  had  been  left  for  Sir  Anthony  to  catch  the 
doctor  on  the  staircase  of  Blue-friars'  Hospital, 
and  ask  him  if  "  the  boy  had  remembered  to 
tell  his  father  that  Sir  Anthony  had  said  he 
was  a  credit  to  the  medical  profession."  Hugh 
had  not  even  mentioned  the  great  man's  rare 
commendation. 

What  had  he  said  about  that  visit  ?  The 
doctor  went  over  in  his  own  mind  the  rather 
bald  account  which  the  united  efforts  of  the 
family  had  with  difficulty  pumped  out. 

Yes,  Hugh  had  seen  Sydney.  She  was 
looking  very  well — this  in  answer  to  a  question 
from  Mrs.  Chichester.  She  had  sent  her  love 
to  them  all.  There  hadn't  been  much  time ; 


154  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Lady  Frederica  had  been  in  a  great  hurry  to 
be  off.  There  was  a  man  with  Sydney,  a  Sir 
Algernon  Bridge.  Was  he  nice  ? — a  query 
from  Dolly.  Well,  Hugh  hadn't  asked  him, 
but  considered  that  he  looked  a  sneery  brute, 
although  not  wishing  to  say  anything  against 
him.  Yes,  he  had  seen  Sydney  again :  she 
was  up  the  church  tower  with  the  Vicar,  who 
seemed  a  good  sort,  and  his  boy,  a  jolly  little 
chap.  The  incident  of  Pauly's  rescue  some- 
how failed  to  transpire  at  all.  No,  he  hadn't 
been  to  the  Castle — this  in  reply  to  some  excited 
inquiries  on  the  subject  of  merry-go-rounds 
from  Fred  and  Prissie.  He  had  lunched  with 
the  Vicar,  who  had  said  that  Sydney  was  inter- 
ested in  the  cottages,  and  took  the  people  soup 
and  things.  Hugh  didn't  think  anything  much 
else  had  happened.  Oh,  how  was  Sydney 
dressed  ?  He  didn't  know — something  blue, 
he  thought.  No,  something  red,  and  fur — a  lot 
of  fur.  Was  she  looking  pretty  ?  How  should 
he  know  ? 

Hugh  had  become  a  little  irritable  at  this 
point,  his  father  recollected :  a  circumstance 
almost  as  unprecedented  as  his  gravity  and 
silence. 

What  was  wrong  with  the  boy? 

The   keen-eyed   doctor    noted   his   dejected 


HUGHS    BATTLE  155 

attitude,  and  the  wistfulness  of  the  gaze  turned 
so  persistently  upon  the  fire.  If  Hugh  was 
reading  his  future  there  it  certainly  was  not 
a  bright  one. 

Dr.  Chichester  watched  in  silence  for  full 
another  ten  minutes,  then  repeated  his  question 
with  a  hand  upon  the  young  man's  knee. 

"  Hugh,  what's  the  matter?  " 

Hugh  started  and  flushed  hotly,  becoming 
conscious  of  his  father's  scrutiny.  Then  he 
pulled  himself  together,  and  said,  with  a  light- 
ness of  tone  which  was  rather  obviously 
assumed  for  convenience'  sake  at  the  moment, 
"  Oh,  nothing,  sir.  I  was  thinking,  that's  all." 

"  Then  thinking  doesn't  seem  to  agree  with 
you,  my  boy,"  said  the  doctor. 

Hugh  raised  himself  in  his  chair,  and  bent 
forward  with  some  eagerness. 

"  Father,  do  you  mind  if  I  go  out  to  my 
chum,  Haviland,  in  New  Zealand?  He  wants 
a  partner  and — and — I  want  to  go." 

Dr.  Chichester  considered. 

11  You  have  a  very  good  position  at  the 
Blue-friars,  Hugh,"  he  said  at  length.  "  Do 
you  want  to  throw  that  up  ? " 

Hugh  rose,  and  walked  about  the  room  a 
little  restlessly. 

"  I    know  it   seems   foolish,"  he   said,  "  but 


156  SYDNEY    LISLE 

I've  a  fancy  for  trying  new  ground,  and 
Haviland  is  beginning  to  establish  a  practice, 
and " 

"And  you  want  to  get  as  far  away  from 
England  as  you  can  ? "  his  father  quietly 
suggested. 

Hugh's  back  was  turned  towards  him  and  he 
did  not  answer.  The  doctor  went  to  his  son, 
and  put  an  arm  through  his. 

"  Sit  down,  my  boy,  and  tell  me  all  about 
it,"  he  said  gently. 

"Well,  I  see  you  know,"  cried  poor  Hugh. 
"  I  always  cared  specially  for  Sydney,  more 
than  I  did  for  Mildred,  or  Dolly,  or  the  rest. 
I  didn't  know  why — just  I  did.  And  then 
she  got  carried  off  by  this  Lord  St.  Quentin, 
and  you  bet  they  mean  to  marry  her  to  that 
idiot  with  a  drawl  and  eye-glass,  who  was  with 
her  at  Donisbro'.  She  was  quite  different 
on  the  church  tower,  but  I  saw  that  she  minded, 
bless  her !  Of  course  I  tried  to  make  her 
think  I  was  all  right.  I  couldn't  have  her 
worry  herself  thinking  I  was  angry  at  the  way 
she  treated  me.  She  wasn't  to  blame,  anyway. 
I  think  she  thought  I  was — all  right  ;  but  I 
must  get  right  away  from  England  and  forget 
it  all.  There's  no  other  way." 

"  There  is,"  said  the  doctor.     "  Look  here. 


HUGH  S    BATTLE  157 

my  boy.  This  is  a  hard  thing  for  you,  I  know  ; 
but  running  away  from  a  trouble  is  not  the  best 
way  of  getting  over  it,  by  any  means.  I'm  not 
going  to  talk  to  you  about  the  help  you  are 
at  home  with  the  younger  boys,  nor  what 
it  will  mean  to  your  mother  and  myself  if 
we  have  to  give  up  our  eldest  son.  You 
are  a  man,  making  your  own  way  in  the  world, 
and  you  have  a  perfect  right  to  judge  for 
yourself.  More,  if  you  find  the  struggle  too 
hard  for  you  to  face,  and  face  cheerfully,  I 
counsel  you  to  go  abroad,  and  start  a  new  life 
there.  If  at  the  end  of  a  week  you  still  want 
to  go  to  New  Zealand,  I'm  not  the  man  to  put 
difficulties  in  your  path.  My  poor  boy,  I  wish 
I  could  say  to  you,  as  they  do  in  novels, 
'  Make  yourself  worthy  of  our  little  girl's 
acceptance,  and  then  Love  will  win.'  I  can't 
say  that,  but  I  can  tell  you  something  finer 
still  :  Make  yourself  worthy  to  love  her,  and 
some  day  you'll  thank  God,  Who  gave  you 
the  love,  though  not  its  earthly  fulfilment. 
I  wouldn't  wish  you  not  to  love  the  child,  for 
love  is  God's  best  gift.  Only  take  it  as  God 
meant  His  gifts  to  be  taken — thankfully,  and 
not  asking  more  than  He  is  pleased  to  offer. 
Do  you  remember  our  little  girl  going  wild 
over  that  copy  of '  Dorothy  Osborne's  Letters,' 


158  SYDNEY    LISLE 

which  I  got  for  her  last  birthday,  and  reading 
bits  aloud  whenever  she  could  get  a  listener  ? 
Dorothy  Osborne's  lover  called  himself  her 
'  servant.'  There,  that's  something  for  you  to 
think  of,  eh,  my  boy?  True  love  wants  to 
serve  humbly  and  not  grasp." 

"If  I  thought  she'd  ever  need  my  ser- 
vice  "  Hugh  began  impulsively. 

"  Who  knows  that  she  may  not  ?  "  said  the 
doctor  with  a  smile.  "  But  decide  nothing  in  a 
hurry,  dear  boy ;  and  go  to  bed  now,  for  it's 
after  one." 

"Just  one  thing  more?"  Hugh  said, 
his  hand  on  the  door.  "  You — you  would 
rather  that  I  stuck  to  the  Blue-friars,  I 
suppose  ? " 

"  I  would  rather  you  did  what  seems  best  to 
you  when  you  have  thought  it  over  for  a 
week,"  the  doctor  said.  "  Good-night,  and  God 
bless  you,  my  boy." 

"  Good-night,  father,"  Hugh  said,  and  so 
went  thoughtfully  upstairs  to  his  attic  bedroom, 
leaving  the  doctor  to  sit  down  again  over  the 
dying  fire,  and  think  sadly  of  his  boy's  trouble, 
this  cloud  which  seemed  so  little  likely  to 
roll  away. 

That  week  was  a  very  long  one  to  the 
doctor  and  to  H  ugh's  mother ;  the  others  were 


HUGH'S  BATTLE  159 

in  ignorance  of  the  decision  in  course  of 
making. 

Hugh  was  very  quiet  all  the  time,  doing  his 
work  day  by  day,  and  when  at  home  noting  all 
that  went  on  with  a  new  observance. 

But  when  the  appointed  day  arrived,  he 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  cast  off  his 
troubles. 

His  father  and  mother  exchanged  glances  as 
he  romped  with  Fred  and  Prissie  before  they 
went  to  bed,  and  seemed  in  all  ways  to  have 
returned  to  his  old  cheery  self. 

"  What  shall  we  do  without  him  ?  "  was  the 
thought  in  both  their  minds,  for  they  could  not 
doubt  his  high  spirits  to  be  caused  by  the 
thought  of  beginning  on  a  new  life  with  the 
old  troubles  left  behind  him. 

The  evening  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and 
all  the  juniors  except  Hugh  and  Mildred  had 
retired  to  bed. 

Hugh  fidgeted  with  the  lamp  for  a  minute, 
and  then  threw  himself  down  upon  the 
rug,  his  head  upon  his  mother's  knee.  She 
smoothed  his  hair  with  loving  fingers.  "  Well, 
dear  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  wrote  to  Haviland  this  morning 
and  declined  his  offer,"  Hugh  answered  ;  "  told 
him  I  had  too  good  a  berth  at  the  Blue-friars  to 


l6O  SYDNEY    LISLE 

throw  it  up,  but  '  thanked  him  kindly  all  the 
same,'  and " 

"  You're  going  to  stay,  my  boy  ?  "  his  father 
cried,  in  a  voice  that  was  not  quite  so  firm 
as  usual. 

"  Yes,"  Hugh  said  steadily,  "  I'm  going 
to  stay." 


CHAPTER    XIV 

AT    THE    DEANERY 

"  THIS  is  delightful ! "  Sydney  cried,  as  she 
sat  down  beside  the  bright  fire  in  the  pretty 
bedroom  near  Katharine's,  which  had  been 
allotted  to  her  at  the  Deanery.  "It  is  quite 
too  lovely  of  you  to  ask  me,  and  it  is  quite 
too  lovely  of  them  to  let  me  come !  I  never 
thought  I  should  be  allowed  to,  and  Lady 
Frederica  said  '  No '  at  first,  and  I  mustn't 
go  visiting  because  of  not  being  '  out ' ;  but 
St.  Quentin  stood  by  me,  and  said  everyone 
had  holidays  at  Christmas-time,  and  I  should 
go  if  I  wanted.  You  can  guess  how  much 
I  did  want ;  even  now  it  seems  too  good  to 
be  true!" 

"  Well,  I  am  very  pleased  to  have  you, 
dear,"  Katharine  said,  smiling  across  at  the 
girl,  "though  I  wish  it  were  for  longer  than 
two  days.  There  is  so  much  I  want  to  hear. 
I  miss  the  calisthenic  class  now  that  there  are 
Christmas  holidays  for  everybody.  How  did 

161 


1 62  SYDNEY    LISLE 

you    spend     Christmas,     and     how     is     your 
cousin  ?  " 

"  I  hoped  he  might  be  better  because  he 
didn't  seem  getting  worse,"  Sydney  said  a 
little  sadly  ;  "  but  Dr.  Lorry  doesn't  seem  to 
think  so.  He  says  St.  Quentin  must  get 
weaker,  and  that  it  is  only  his  splendid  con- 
stitution makes  him  fight  so  long." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes  in  the 
pretty  room. 

"  Well,  you  haven't  told  me  yet  how  you 
spent  Christmas  ?  "  Katharine  asked,  rousing 
herself  with  an  effort. 

"  Sir    Algernon    was    with    us "    began 

Sydney,  but  was  interrupted. 

"Whom  did  you  say?" 

"  Sir  Algernon  Bridge  ;  he  is  a  friend,  I 
think,  of  Cousin  St.  Quentin's." 

"  And  he  is  at  the  Castle  now  ?  Sydney 
dear,  promise  me,  don't  have  more  to  do  than 
you  can  help  with  that  man  ! " 

Sydney  hardly  knew  the  quiet  girl ;  her 
eyes  were  flashing,  and  there  was  a  bright 
colour  in  her  face. 

"  I  can't  bear  him  ! "  she  said  ;  "  and  I  don't 
see  a  great  deal  of  him — at  least,  I  did  not, 
but  since  Christmas  Day  he  has  been  more 
with  Miss  Osric  and  me." 


AT    THE    DEANERY  163 

"  Have  as  little  to  do  with  him  as  possible," 
said  Katharine  earnestly.  "Your  cousin  ought 
not  to  allow  him  to  be  with  you.  I  will  tell 
you  something  about  him,  Sydney,  and  then 
you  will  see  what  I  mean." 

She  played  nervously  for  a  minute  with  the 
fire-screen  on  her  knee,  then  began,  speaking 
low. 

"  It  is  a  story  about  a  girl,  not  very  much 
older  than  you  are,  whose  life  was  spoiled 
because  she  listened  to  him.  This  girl  cared 
for  a  man  very  much  indeed,  and  he  cared 
for  her ;  only  she  would  not  be  engaged, 
because  the  man  did  not  care  enough  to 
give  up  his  faults  and  extravagances  for  her 
sake. 

"  But  she  did  care,  more  than  you  can 
understand  !  Sir  Algernon  knew  her,  and  one 
day  he  asked  her  to  marry  him.  She  said 
'  No,'  of  course,  and  he  was  angry,  for  he 
guessed  about  this  other  man.  .  .  .  Then — I 
don't  know  how  to  tell  you,  Sydney  dear — a 
very  dreadful  thing  happened.  .  .  .  The  man 
she  cared  for  was  suspected  of  doing  an 
exceedingly  dishonourable  action.  The  girl 
was  away  from  home  when  this — thing — 
happened,  so  she  knew  nothing  till  she  came 
back.  The  first  thing  she  did  when  she  heard, 


I  64  SYDNEY    LISLE 

was  to  snatch  up  pen  and  paper  and  write  a 
letter  to  the  man  she  loved,  telling  him  that 
she  did  not  believe  a  word  against  him,  and 
only  cared  for  him  more  if  possible  than  she 
had  done  before.  .  .  ." 

"  That's  the  kind  of  thing  you  would  have 
done  !  "  cried  Sydney  ;  "  please  go  on.  Wasn't 
the  man  very,  very  pleased  to  get  the  letter  ?  " 

Katharine  knelt  down  to  stir  the  fire,  although 
it  did  not  stand  in  any  need  of  stirring. 

"  She  never  sent  the  letter,  Sydney  dear.  .  .  . 
She  had  just  addressed  it  when  Sir  Algernon 
came  in.  He  told  her  he  had  come  to  ask  for 
her  advice.  He  had  had  a  letter,  seeming 
to  come  from  some  poor  woman  in  distress,  he 
said,  and  asking  for  his  help.  Knowing  the 
girl  was  interested  in  such  cases,  he  asked  her 
if  she  would  read  the  letter,  and  tell  him  if  she 
thought  the  case  one  suited  for  his  help  .  .  . 

"Of  course  the  girl  said  'Yes,'  and  he  gave  her 
a  dirty  envelope,  looking  very  carefully  inside 
it  first,  she  saw,  though  she  hardly  noticed 
at  the  time.  He  told  her,  as  he  gave  it  to  her, 
that  she  would  need  to  read  it  very  carefully 
and  slowly,  as  the  woman  was  exceedingly 
illiterate  ...  It  was  written  in  a  cramped,  odd 
hand-writing,  but  it  was  quite  correctly  spelled. 
When  the  girl  had  read  about  half,  she  saw  that 


AT   THE    DEANERY  165 

the  letter  was  from  no  poor  woman  .  .  .  but 
from  the  man  she  cared  for,  and  oh,  Sydney ! 
it  seemed  to  show  beyond  possibility  of  doubt 
that  he  was  guilty  of  this  dreadful  meanness  in 
which  the  girl  had  refused  to  believe  .  .  .  Sir 
Algernon  pretended  to  be  dreadfully  distressed 
when  the  girl  gave  him  back  the  half-read 
letter,  and  said  he  must  have  put  this  by 
mistake  into  the  wrong  envelope,  and  he  never 
should  forgive  himself,  for  he  had  promised  to 
suppress  the  man's  letter,  because  they  had 
been  friends.  And  the  girl  thought  he  was 
very  generous ! 

"  When  he  had  gone,  she  put  that  loving 
letter  in  the  fire,  and  wrote  another  to  the  man 
she  loved,  not  mentioning  the  letter  she  had 
seen,  but  merely  saying  that  she  never  wished 
to  see  or  hear  of  him  again  !  I  think,  even 
then,  she  half  hoped  for  some  explanation  from 
him,  but  none  came.  She  was  very  miserable, 
Sydney." 

"  I  think  she  deserved  to  be ! "  Sydney  cried. 
"  Why,  if  she  really  cared  for  the  man,  how 
could  she  help  believing  in  him  ? — all  the  more 
if  things  went  against  him.  I  don't  believe  she 
loved  him ! " 

She  wondered  as  she  spoke  why  her  friend 
looked  so  white,  even  in  the  dancing  firelight. 

ii 


I  66  SYDNEY    LISLE 

"  She  did  care,  but  not  enough,"  said 
Katharine  Morrell,  and  there  was  a  pause. 

"  Did  she  ever  get  to  know  ?  "  asked  Sydney, 
after  waiting  in  vain  for  her  to  go  on. 

"  Yes,  by-and-by,  when  she  had  thought 
about  it  more,  and  grown  older,  and  heard 
more  about  Sir  Algernon.  She  felt  sure  then 
that  the  man  she  loved  was  innocent  of  that 
dishonourable  action :  that  he  could  not  have 
been  guilty  of  it.  And  she  guessed  that  Sir 
Algernon  had  given  her  the  note  to  read  on 
purpose  that  she  might  act  as  she  did.  He 
had  set  a  trap  for  her,  but  she  would  not  have 
fallen  into  it  if  she  had  only  had  more  love 
and  trust  and  patience." 

"  When  she  knew,  did  she  write  to  the 
man  and  tell  him  ? "  Sydney  questioned 
earnestly. 

"No,  dear,  she  couldn't.  The  man  had 
given  up  caring,  for  one  thing,  you  see.  No, 
that  is  the  end  of  the  story !  I  am  afraid 
there  is  no  '  lived  happily  ever  after '  to  finish 
this.  I  only  tell  you  of  it,  because  I  want 
you  to  be  warned  against  Sir  Algernon." 
There  was  a  silence  in  the  pretty  room  ;  then 
Katharine  rose  a  little  wearily.  "  Good-night, 
dear ;  don't  be  worried  by  that  girl's  story, 
which  is  all  past  and  gone.  Only  be  warned, 


AT   THE    DEANERY  167 

as  I  wish  she  had  been  warned,  against  Sir 
Algernon." 

Sydney  thought  a  good  deal  of  Katharine  s 
words  during  the  busy,  happy  day  which 
followed,  when  she  seemed  plunged  back  for 
the  time  being  into  the  merry  Sydney  of  home. 
There  was  a  Christmas-tree  at  the  Hospital, 
and  Sydney  went  with  her  friend  and  helped 
her  take  round  the  presents  to  the  patients, 
and  made  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Osric's 
father,  and  enjoyed  herself  exceedingly. 

And  next  day  Miss  Morrell  entertained  all 
the  women  of  her  working-party  at  the 
Deanery,  and  Sydney  and  the  little  cousin 
Sylvia  helped  to  wait  on  them  at  tea  and 
amuse  them.  Sydney  quite  made  friends  with 
a  gentle-faced  woman,  whose  smile  made  her 
think  a  little  bit  of  mother's,  and  sat  beside 
her  talking  to  her  for  a  great  part  of  the 
evening. 

"  Yes,  this  sewing-party  it  were  Miss 
Morrell's  plan,  miss,"  said  Mrs.  Carter,  "  and 
many's  the  times  as  we've  blessed  her  for  it. 
You  see,  miss,  most  of  us  here  went  out  to 
service  that  early  as  we  hadn't  time  to  learn 
more  sewing  than  the  roughest  kind,  and 
patterns  and  things  of  that  kind  don't  come 
much  in  the  way  of  poor  folk.  Well,  Miss 


1 68  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Morrell  she  knew  that,  so  she  went  and 
learned  herself  how  to  make  gowns  and  under- 
wear and  children's  clothes  and  such-like,  and 
then  she  has  a  working-party  once  a  week 
for  to  learn  us.  And  we  sits  in  her  own 
morning-room,  with  all  her  pretty  things  about, 
for  all  the  world  as  if  we  was  ladies,  and  she 
has  the  rolls  of  stuff  down  cheaper  from  the 
big  shops  than  we  can  buy  it,  and  lets  us 
pay  as  we  can.  And  she  cuts  out  the  things 
for  us,  and  learns  us  all  about  the  making 
of  'em,  talking  or  reading  to  us  in  between, 
very  sweet.  And  by-and-by  we  has  tea ; 
all  served  very  dainty,  with  Mr.  Tomkins,  the 
footman,  handing  round  as  polite  as  anything. 
I  can  tell  you,  miss,  it  makes  a  real  rest  for 
us  to  sit  and  work  in  that  there  pretty  room, 
and  it  makes  a  sight  of  difference,  too,  to 
the  way  that  we  dress  the  children.  Why, 
mine  was  turned  out  as  neat  and  nice  as 
anything,  though  I  say  it  as  shouldn't,  all 
through  last  winter,  and  at  half  the  cost  of 
dressing  'em  in  them  shop-made  things,  as 
comes  all  to  pieces  before  you  know  where 
to  have  'em.  Miss  Morrell,  she  don't  hardly 
let  nothing  interfere  with  our  sewing-party. 
She's  a  real  young  lady,  she  is,  bless  her ! " 
"  Katharine,"  said  Sydney  that  evening, 


AT   THE    DEANERY  169 

when  the  guests  had  departed,  "  I  wish  I 
were  half  as  good  as  you  are.  Don't  you 
sometimes  find  that  work-party  a  great  bother?" 

"  Oh,  of  course  it  is  a  little  inconvenient 
sometimes,"  she  said ;  "  but  the  women  are 
so  nice  and  so  grateful,  and  one  is  so  glad  to 
have  something  one  can  do  for  them  oneself. 
Papa  is  always  very  good  in  letting  me  relieve 
special  cases  of  trouble,  but  it  is  his  money, 
not  mine,  you  see.  The  best  kind  of  giving 
is  what  one  gives  oneself,  don't  you  think  ? 
And  most  of  us  can  give  our  time  and  trouble, 
even  if  we  can  give  nothing  else." 

Sydney  took  these  words  home  with  her 
next  day,  when  reluctantly  she  had  bade 
good-bye  to  Katharine,  and  been  put  by  the 
silver-haired  Dean  into  the  charge  of  Miss 
Osric,  who  had  come  to  Donisbro'  to  fetch 
her. 

"  Most  of  us  can  give  our  time  and  trouble, 
even  if  we  can  give  nothing  else." 


CHAPTER    XV 

LITTLE   THINGS 

"  MRS.  SAWYER  says  she  will  be  proud  and 
pleased  to  let  us  use  her  kitchen  for  nothing," 
Sydney  said,  "  but  we  must  pay  her  for  the 
fire.  She  doesn't  have  one  in  the  afternoons, 
as  a  rule.  How  much  does  a  fire  cost,  Miss 
Osric  ?  " 

The  girl  was  puckering  her  brows  over  a 
business-like  account  book  open  on  the  table 
before  her.  Miss  Osric  stood  opposite,  driving 
a  great  pair  of  squeaking  scissors  through  a 
double  fold  of  flannel. 

"  We  should  want  it  for  about  two  hours, 
shouldn't  we  ?  "  she  said,  in  answer  to  Sydney's 
question.  "It  would  probably  cost  about 
sevenpence  a  time,  but  that  depends  upon 
the  sort  of  coal  Mrs.  Sawyer  has,  and  how 
big  a  fire  you  mean  to  keep." 

"  Fourteen  pence  —  one  and  twopence  a 
week,"  Sydney  said,  noting  the  fact  down  in  her 

170 


LITTLE   THINGS  171 

account  book.  "  And  then  there  is  the  tea," 
she  went  on.  « I  wonder  how  much  that 
will  cost  ?  And  I  don't  suppose  the  people 
will  be  able  to  pay  much  at  first  towards  the 
stuff  they  use.  They  are  so  poor,  and  one 
wants  to  help  them." 

"  Let  them  pay  something  towards  it, 
Sydney,"  said  Miss  Osric;  "don't  make  paupers 
of  them — that  is  a  mistake.  Say  they  pay 
half  expenses." 

"  Well,  perhaps,"  the  girl  said.  "  How  many 
petticoats  will  that  roll  of  flannel  make,  do 
you  think  ?  " 

"  Not  very  many,  and  flannel  is  so  dread- 
fully expensive ;  you  will  have  to  use 
flannelette,  I  think." 

"No,  it  must  be  flannel,"  said  Sydney. 
"  I  asked  Dr.  Lorry,  and  he  said  rheumatic 
people  should  wear  flannel.  And  you  know 
how  dreadfully  rheumatic  they  are  here." 

There  was  another  anxious  calculation  of 
accounts,  which  lasted  until  Sydney,  pulling 
out  the  lovely  little  gold  watch  which  had  been 
her  cousin's  present  to  her  on  her  birthday, 
a  day  or  two  ago,  found  that  it  was  time  to 
dress  for  going  out  with  Lady  Frederica. 

The  girl  had  lost  no  time  on  her  return 
from  that  Christmas  visit  at  the  Deanery  in 


172  SYDNEY    LISLE 

starting  on  her  plans.  Miss  Osric  proved  a 
willing  helper,  and  Lady  Frederica,  approached 
judiciously  at  a  favourable  moment  on  the 
subject,  had  raised  no  objection  to  the  pro- 
jected working-party.  "  Oh,  yes,  amuse  your- 
self as  you  like,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "as 
long  as  you  don't  go  about  alone,  or  damage 
your  complexion." 

And  Sydney  had  joyfully  availed  herself 
of  the  permission  to  drive  in  to  Dacreshaw 
and  order  such  materials  as  Miss  Osric  thought 
would  be  most  useful  to  the  women  of  the 
village. 

Sydney  had  no  difficulty  in  persuading  them 
to  come,  though  at  first  they  found  it  hard 
to  believe  that  anybody  from  the  Castle  was 
really  going  to  take  an  interest  in  their 
troubles.  But  Sydney's  bright  face,  as  she 
brought  soup  or  invalid  fare  of  some  kind, 
coaxed  out  of  Mrs.  Fewkes,  the  Castle  cook, 
had  grown  familiar  already  in  cottages  where 
there  was  illness,  and  they  were  beginning 
slowly  to  realize  that  the  future  Lady  St. 
Quentin  held  very  different  views  from  her 
cousin  on  the  subject  of  the  tenantry  who 
would  be  hers  some  day. 

"  There'll  be  a  good  time  coming  when  that 
little  lady's  mistress  here,"  they  said  to  one 


LITTLE   THINGS  173 

another,  and  welcomed  the  idea  of  the  working- 
parties  with  enthusiasm. 

All  was  to  be  as  far  as  possible  on  the  lines 
of  Miss  Morrell's,  and  Sydney  set  about  buying 
just  the  same  materials  as  those  used  by  her 
friend.  But  flannel,  long-cloth,  wool,  and  serge 
cost  money,  and  she  found  the  small  remains  of 
her  quarter's  allowance  quite  inadequate.  Her 
extensive  Christmas  purchases  had  reduced  the 
amount,  which  had  seemed  at  first  so  inex- 
haustible, to  a  very  small  remnant  by  the  time 
she  set  about  the  shopping  for  this  new  scheme. 
Hence  the  anxious  discussion  with  Miss  Osric 
over  ways  and  means. 

It  never  struck  Sydney  for  one  moment  to 
apply  for  help  to  her  cousin.  He  had  said 
he  could  do  nothing  for  the  cottages ;  clearly 
what  was  done  must  be  done  by  herself 
alone. 

How  did  girls  in  story-books  make  money  ? 
She  cast  her  mind  over  those  that  she  had  read. 
The  heroines  of  fiction  seemed  to  have  a 
habit  of  painting  the  picture  of  the  year,  or 
writing  a  novel  that  took  all  London  by  storm. 
Sydney  felt  quite  certain  of  her  inability  to 
follow  either  example. 

Sometimes  they  were  adopted  by  wealthy 
old  gentlemen  or  ladies  in  search  of  deserving 


r/4  SYDNEY    LISLE 

heirs,  but  Sydney  thought  she  had  had  enough 
of  changing  her  home  !  Sometimes  they  dis- 
covered treasure  in  places  where  even  news- 
paper editors  would  never  think  of  hiding 
it.  "It  would  be  a  great  deal  easier  if  some 
of  them  did  little  things,"  poor  Sydney 
thought. 

No  solution  of  the  problem  had  occurred 
to  her  by  the  date  fixed  for  the  first  working- 
party  ;  when  a  plain  but  plentiful  tea  was 
spread  on  Mrs.  Sawyer's  dresser,  and  a  some- 
what meagre  pile  of  unmade  flannel  petticoats 
adorned  the  table. 

Sydney  received  her  guests  a  little  shyly,  but 
with  so  much  real  pleasure  in  her  face  that 
they  had  no  doubt  of  their  welcome.  She  and 
Miss  Osric  helped  them  to  take  off  their  shawls 
and  jackets,  which  Mrs.  Sawyer,  a  sickly 
looking  woman  in  a  very  clean  apron,  put  away 
in  the  ill-drained  and  ill-ventilated  cupboard 
which  she  called  the  back  kitchen. 

Then  came  the  distribution  of  garments  to 
be  made  for  themselves  or  their  children  by 
the  workers,  and  here  poor  Sydney  found  the 
demand  for  flannel  petticoats  far  exceeding  her 
supply. 

The  women  were  exceedingly  polite  about  it, 
and  assured  her  that  it  did  not  matter,  but 


LITTLE   THINGS  175 

the  girl  felt  she  would  have  given  anything  to 
have  had  enough  for  their  wants. 

Needlework,  an  accomplishment  Lady 
Frederica  had  not  asked  for,  was  one  that 
Sydney  had  learnt  "  at  the  doctor's,"  and  Miss 
Osric  had  had  plenty  of  experience  in  the 
cutting-out  line  in  old  days  at  her  father's 
Vicarage.  So  everything  went  smoothly : 
conversation  was  much  easier  than  Sydney  had 
expected  it  to  be,  and  the  women  seemed  to 
thoroughly  enjoy  their  tea.  All  would  have 
been  quite  delightful  to  the  girl,  even  though 
the  ill-ventilated  kitchen  was  very  close  with  so 
many  people  sitting  in  it,  and  the  damp  of  the 
uneven  stone  floor  made  her  feet,  in  their 
delicate  Parisian  boots,  extremely  cold,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  haunting  thought  of  how  she 
should  procure  the  money  necessary  for  the 
carrying  on  of  her  scheme. 

"  Only  the  sixth  of  January,"  she  said 
dismally  to  Miss  Osric,  as  the  two  hurried 
down  the  village  to  the  second  working-party. 
"  Only  the  sixth  of  January  to-day,  and 
Quarter  Day  isn't  till  the  twenty-fifth  of  March. 
What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  said  Miss  Osric, 
"  but  you  know  I  must  send  all  I  can  spare  to 
them  at  home.  It  costs  so  much  to  send  my 


176  SYDNEY    LISLE 

brother  Jack  to  Oxford,  and  there  are  Dorothy 
and  Hilda  who  ought  to  go  to  school  as  soon 
as  we  can  manage  it." 

"  OK,  I  know !  "  cried  Sydney.  "  I  wouldn't 
have  you  help  in  the  money  way  for  anything  ; 
just  think  what  an  amount  of  the  other  kind 
of  help  you  are  giving  !  "  And  they  went  into 
Mrs.  Sawyer's  cottage  and  discussed  the  money 
question  no  more. 

An  observation  of  Lady  Frederica's  next 
day  gave  Sydney  the  idea  for  which  she  was 
longing.  Sir  Algernon,  who  had  been  in  town 
since  Sydney's  return  from  the  Deanery,  came 
back  that  morning,  and  announced  at  luncheon 
that  the  Castle  clocks  were  all  behind  London 
time.  Sydney,  eager  to  establish  the  perfections 
of  her  new  watch,  pulled  it  out  triumphantly 
to  inform  the  company  that  in  that  case  her 
treasure  was  correct,  for  St.  Quentin  had 
declared  it  only  that  morning  to  be  rather 
fast. 

Its  beauty  caught  Lady  Frederica's  eye. 
"  Dear  me,  child ! "  she  said,  "  is  that  the 
watch  St.  Quentin  gave  you  on  your  birthday. 
What  a  little  beauty  !  But  how  extravagant  of 
him,  when  he  was  speaking  to  me  quite 
seriously  only  a  day  or  two  ago  about  re- 
trenching ! " 


LITTLE   THINGS  177 

"  Poor  old  chap,  is  he  feeling  pinched  ?  "  Sir 
Algernon  said  lightly.  "  There  are  moments, 
Lady  Frederica,  when  I  bless  the  luck  that 
gave  me  a  title  unencumbered  by  a  property 
to  keep  going.  May  I  see  the  watch,  Miss 
Lisle  ? "  He  spoke  with  a  new  inflection  in 
his  voice  which  did  not  escape  Lady  Frederica. 
"  Yes,  it  is  a  beauty  and  no  mistake.  I  expect 
they  rooked  old  Quin  something  heavy  for 
that." 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  St.  Quentin,"  Sydney 
said,  and  Sir  Algernon  murmured,  "  Lucky 
beggar ! "  in  a  tone  the  girl  found  hard  to 
understand. 

The  conversation  turned  on  other  topics,  but 
Sydney  did  not  forget  it,  and,  after  much 
screwing  up  of  her  courage,  went  into  the 
library  a  day  or  two  later,  having  previously 
watched  Sir  Algernon  off  on  a  ride. 

"  St.  Quentin,"  she  said,  feeling  very  much 
astounded  by  her  own  daring,  "  I've  come  to 
ask  a  favour  of  you ;  and  please — please  be 
very  kind,  and  don't  ask  any  questions  or  be 
angry  when  you  hear  what  I  want.  Do  say 
you'll  be  kind !  " 

"  Well,  th  at's  a  nice  modest  request,  any- 
how," her  cousin  said,  smiling  a  little.  "What 
awful  things  have  you  been  doing  ?  Oh,  of 


178  SYDNEY    LISLE 

course,  I'm  not  to  ask.  If  you  were  a 
boy  I  should  guess  you  to  be  in  a  scrape, 
but  girls  keep  clear  of  those  things,  don't 
they?" 

"  Don't  laugh,"  said  Sydney ;  "  at  least,  I 
would  rather  you  laughed  than  were  angry. 
St.  Quentin,  please  don't  think  me  horribly  un- 
grateful, but  may — can  I  change  the  watch  you 
gave  me  on  my  birthday  ?  " 

"  What,  don't  you  like  it  ?  "  said  St.  Quentin 
slowly. 

"Oh,  I  do !  I  do  ! "  she  cried ;  "  but,  please, 
you  said  you  wouldn't  ask  questions,  and  I 
want  to  change  it !  " 

"Who  will  do  the  job  for  you  ?"  her  cousin 
said.  "  I  ordered  the  watch  from  Oliver's  in 
Donisbro',  if  you  wish  to  know  ;  but  mind,  I 
won't  have  you  poking  about  changing  things 
yourself." 

"  Miss  Osric  said  she  knew  her  father 
would  change  it  for  me,  if  you  gave  permis- 
sion," said  Sydney.  "St.  Quentin,  I  can  see 
you  are  vexed." 

"  No,  I'm  not,"  he  said,  a  little  bit  im- 
patiently, "  but  I  should  like  to  get  at  the 
bottom  of  this,  Sydney.  Can't  you  tell  me 
straight  out  what's  wrong  ?  " 

"No,    I  couldn't,"   she   assured   him,  "and 


LITTLE    THINGS  179 

nothing  is  wrong  really,  on  my  honour  !  Miss 
Osric  knows  all  about  it,  and  she  is  ever  so 
wise  and  experienced  !  " 

"  A  Methuselah  of  twenty-three  years,  isn't 
she  ? "  St.  Quentin  said,  smiling  despite  his 
vexation.  "  Well,  Sydney,  I  suppose  I  must 
let  you  go  your  own  way.  Put  the  matter 
into  the  hands  of  your  mentor's  father,  and 
have  nothing  personally  to  do  with  it,  that's 
all." 

If  it  cost  Sydney  a  pang  to  part  with  her 
treasured  watch,  and  it  did  undoubtedly,  she 
was  more  than  repaid  by  the  look  upon  the 
women's  faces  as  they  saw  the  noble  pile  of 
flannel  garments  laid  out  for  their  benefit. 
Mr.  Osric  had  done  his  part  well,  and  obtained 
for  Sydney  very  nearly  the  full  value  of  the 
watch,  after  some  argument  with  Mr.  Oliver, 
who  declared  that  he  "  never  took  back  an 
article  when  sold." 

He  was,  however,  speedily  rewarded  for 
yielding  by  a  gentleman  with  light  blue  eyes 
and  a  monocle,  who  had  been  turning  over 
scarf  pins  at  the  other  end  of  the  shop  during 
Mr.  Osric's  transaction. 

This  gentleman  came  closer  to  Oliver,  when 
Mr.  Osric  had  gone  out,  and  requested  to  be 
allowed  to  examine  the  little  watch  the  clergy- 


ISO  SYDNEY    LISLE 

man  had  left  behind  him.  After  a  brief  but 
careful  examination  he  asked  the  price,  and 
bought  it,  leaving  Mr.  Oliver,  who  knew  Sir 
Algernon  Bridge  well  enough  by  sight,  to 
shrewdly  surmise  that  a  "  single  gentleman 
who  bought  a  lady's  watch  must  shortly  be 
intending  to  be  married." 


CHAPTER    XVI 

A   PROPOSAL 

A  SLEETY  rain  was  falling,  but,  despite  the  cold, 
St.  Quentin's  couch  was  drawn  up  close  be- 
neath the  mullioned  windows  of  the  library, 
from  which  he  could  look  out  upon  the  green 
expanse  of  Park  and  the  mighty  trees,  which 
had  seen  generations  of  his  family  reign  their 
reign  at  the  great  old  Castle,  and  die. 

The  present  owner's  face  was  sad  enough, 
as  he  gazed  out  on  the  splendid  prospect, 
beautiful  even  in  the  bareness  of  winter  and 
the  dreariness  of  rain. 

At  his  elbow  lay  an  invalid  writing-desk 
and  a  sheet  of  paper,  on  which  the  words 
were  written :  "  Dear  Fane — Cut  the  timber 
from  ..."  He  had  gone  no  further,  though 
he  had  started  that  letter  to  his  agent  when 
Sir  Algernon  had  left  him  an  hour  ago. 

A  sentence  kept  rising  up  before  him  when- 
ever he  took  up  his  pen  to  write,  a  sentence 

181  12 


1 82  SYDNEY    LISLE 

which,  though  spoken  more  than  five  years 
ago,  was  fresh  as  though  he  heard  it  yesterday. 

"  Weve  never  let  the  timber  go,  my  boy" 

Yes,  he  remembered  that  his  father  had 
paid  his,  St.  Quentin's,  debts  by  care  and 
economy,  but  without  sacrificing  any  of  the 
splendid  trees,  which  were  the  pride  of  the 
county.  "  Weve  never  let  the  timber  go,  my 
boy''  He  turned  his  head  with  an  impatient 
sigh  and  flung  the  paper  down  again,  staring 
from  the  rain-washed  window  gloomily. 

As  he  looked  aimlessly  enough,  something 
crossed  his  line  of  vision  that  made  him  start 
into  a  sudden  interest  and  life. 

Two  ladies,  wrapped  in  waterproofs  and 
wrestling  with  refractory  umbrellas,  passed 
beneath  his  window,  carrying  a  large  basket. 
In  spite  of  sleet  and  rain  they  walked  fast 
as  though  in  a  hurry,  and  quickly  disappeared 
amid  the  trees,  though  not  before  Sydney's 
cousin  had  recognised  the  scarlet  tam-o'-shanter 
and  long  tail  of  refractory  brown  hair,  blown 
every  way. 

"  What  on  earth  can  the  child  be  thinking 
of  to  go  out  on  such  an  afternoon ! "  St. 
Quentin  said  to  himself,  and  he  rang  sharply 
for  Dickson. 

"  Where  has  Miss  Lisle  gone?  " 


A   PROPOSAL  183 

"  I  will  enquire,  my  lord." 

The  servant  vanished,  but  returned  in  a  few 
minutes  with  the  information — "  Miss  Lisle  and 
Miss  Osric  have  gone  down  to  the  village, 
my  lord.  Miss  Lisle  holds  a  sewing  meeting 
for  the  village  women  on  two  afternoons  a  week, 
my  lord." 

St.  Quentin  considered  this  information, 
then  enquired,  "  Is  Lady  Frederica  in  ?  " 

"  I  will  enquire,  my  lord." 

"If  she  is  disengaged,  ask  if  she  could  spare 
me  five  minutes." 

Dickson  withdrew,  and  shortly  afterwards 
Lady  Frederica  tripped  in,  looking  as  though 
she  considered  somebody  very  much  to  blame 
for  the  dreariness  of  the  afternoon. 

"  Aunt  Rica,"  said  her  nephew,  "  did  you 
know  of  this  preposterous  idea  of  Sydney's — 
teaching  old  women  to  sew  or  something,  on  a 
beastly  afternoon  like  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  asked  my  leave  to  do  some- 
thing of  the  kind,"  Lady  Frederica  answered, 
with  a  yawn.  "  She  said  something,  I  remember, 
about  the  people  being  poor  and  miserable 
here,  and  wanting  to  help  them,  and  you 
having  told  her  you  could  do  nothing.  All  she 
wanted  was  to  do  something  or  another  for  the 
women — I  forget  what — but  I  know  it  did  not 


184  SYDNEY    LISLE 

seem  to  me  likely  to  damage  her  figure  or 
complexion.  Oh,  I  see,  you  don't  like  it,  but 
girls  will  amuse  themselves,  St.  Quentin,  and 
slumming  is  quite  the  last  thing,  you  know ! " 

A  remembrance  of  the  girl's  earnest  face 
as  they  talked  on  Christmas  Day  came  over 
her  cousin.  How  keen  the  child  had  been 
over  the  rebuilding  of  those  cottages,  which 
were  a  disgrace  to  him,  he  knew,  and  not  the 
only  blot  by  a  long  way  on  the  great  St. 
Quentin  estates.  So  that  was  why  she  wished 
to  change  her  watch.  Why  on  earth  couldn't  he 
have  seen,  and  given  her  the  money,  instead  of 
leaving  her  to  sacrifice  her  own  little  treasures 
for  the  benefit  of  his  tenants !  Having  failed 
to  persuade  him  to  do  his  duty  by  them,  she 
was  trying,  with  the  little  means  she  had,  to 
do  it  for  him.  He  crushed  that  unfinished 
letter  to  his  agent  impatiently  between  his 
fingers.  The  order  he  had  been  about  to  give 
him  became  if  possible  more  distasteful  than  it 
had  been  before.  How  could  he  cut  off  all 
chance  of  doing  something  for  his  wretched 
tenants  !  And  yet — and  yet — what  else  was 
left  for  him  to  do  but  write  ? 

"  Well,  St.  Quentin,  if  you  don't  want  me 
any  more  I'll  go  back  to  my  novel,"  Lady 
Frederica  said  with  another  yawn.  "  You're 


A   PROPOSAL  185 

most     depressing     company,    my    dear    boy ; 
almost  as  depressing  as  the  weather  ! " 

"  Thanks  awfully  for  coming,"  he  said 
absently.  She  turned  to  leave  him ;  as  she 
did  so  her  eye  fell  upon  the  crumpled  paper 
on  the  floor. 

"  St.  Quentin,"  she  cried  sharply,  "  you're 
not  telling  Mr.  Fane  to  cut  down  timber, 
are  you?  Gracious,  what  would  your  poor 
dear  father  have  said  !  " 

"  What  I  feel,"  he  said  bitterly,  "  that  it's 
a  very  good  thing  my  reign  is  near  its 
end.  .  .  .  Don't  stay  if  you'd  rather  not,  Aunt 
Rica." 

She  was  by  no  means  unwilling  to  leave 
him  for  the  more  cheerful  company  of  a  novel 
in  her  own  private  sitting-room,  where  the 
fire  was  bright  and  the  chairs  very  comfortable. 
Left  once  more  to  himself,  he  snatched  up 
a  pen,  took  a  fresh  sheet  of  paper,  and  began 
again,  "  Dear  Fane  "  ;  then  paused. 

Sydney's  words  on  Christmas  Day  kept 
rising  up  before  him,  instead  of  those  which 
he  meant  to  write. 

"  Can  you  do  nothing  for  the  cottages  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  he  said  half  aloud  ;  "  and  yet — 
she  thought  me  brave  !  " 

His  letter  had  progressed  no  further  when 


1 86  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Dickson  came  in  an  hour  later,  as  the  short 
winter's  afternoon  drew  towards  its  close. 
With  an  exclamation  at  the  cold,  the  man 
wheeled  his  master's  couch  to  the  fire,  which 
he  stirred  noiselessly  into  a  blaze,  brought  him 
some  tea,  and  lit  his  reading-lamp. 

"  Miss  Lisle  in  yet  ?"  asked  St.  Quentin. 

"  I  will  enquire,  my  lord."  This  was 
Dickson's  almost  invariable  answer. 

"  Miss  Lisle  has  not  yet  returned,  my  lord," 
he  informed  St.  Quentin  after  a  voyage  in 
search  of  her. 

"  Ask  her  to  come  to  me  when  she  does." 

"Yes,  my  lord."  Dickson  closed  the  door 
softly,  and  St.  Quentin  was  left  alone.  He 
made  no  attempt  to  go  on  with  his  letter, 
but  stared  idly  in  the  fire,  listening  intently. 
In  about  ten  minutes  the  door  opened  and  Sir 
Algernon  strolled  in. 

"You!"  said  St.  Quentin,  in  a  tone  which 
was  not  expressive  of  the  keenest  pleasure. 

"  Yes,  I,  old  man.  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 
By  the  way,  have  you  sent  that  note  to  Fane 
about  the  timber  ?  " 

"  No." 

• '  You  haven't  ?  " 

"  No ;  the  truth  is,  Bridge,  I'm  getting 
rather  sick  of  this  blackmailing  business." 


A    PROPOSAL  187 

"  You  are  ? "  Sir  Algernon  surveyed  the 
weary,  impatient  face  in  silence  for  a  minute. 
"  I  wonder  if  you'd  like  to  try  another  tack," 
he  suggested  softly.  "  I've  had  a  good  deal 
of  cash  out  of  you  one  way  and  another,  and 
now  you're — er — er " 

"  Dying,"  his  host  supplied  the  word. 

"  Well,  going  to  send  in  your  checks  some 
time  pretty  soon,  I  suppose  ? "  Sir  Algernon 
amended.  "  Look  here,  I  know  the  estate's 
heavily  encumbered  and  all  that,  but  I'm  not 
a  mercenary  man,  and  the  girl's  pretty  " 

"  Of  whom  are  you  speaking?" 

"  Why,  Sydney." 

"  Kindly  leave  her  name  alone :  we're  not 
talking  of  her." 

"  Aren't  we  ?  You're  a  bit  out,  old  chap. 
What  I  have  to  say  does  concern  her,  as  it 
happens.  What  do  you  say  to  this,  Quin  ? 
I'll  give  my  word  not  to  squeeze  you  further, 
and,  what's  more,  I'll  burn  a  certain  letter  that 
we  know  of  here — before  your  eyes — if  you'll 
swear  to  make  a  match  between  that  little  girl 
and  me.  You  won't  have  opposition  to 
contend  with,  I  imagine.  She's  too  much 
of  a  child  to  have  any  violent  fancies  else- 
where, especially  since  you  and  Lady 
Frederica  between  you  choked  off  the  chemist's 


jgg  SYDNEY    LISLE 

assistant.  I'd  have  made  running  with  a  bit 
myself  this  last  fortnight,  only  she's  always 
about  in  cottages  and  accompanied  by  the 
governess.  The  combination  is  a  little  too 
much  for  me  to  swallow,  specially  when  the 
cottages  are  yours,  my  dear  chap.  So  I'll 
leave  you  to  do  the  courting  for  me,  since 
she  evidently  looks  on  you  in  loco  parentis. 
Eh,  if  she  knew  a  little  more  about  you  she 
wouldn't  be  so  keen  to  pin  her  faith  upon 
you,  would  she  ?  " 

"Have  you  any  more  to  say?"  enquired 
St.  Quentin. 

"  No — I  think  that's  about  all.  You  won't 
be  altogether  sorry  to  save  your  timber,  eh, 
Quin  ? " 

"  Not  on  your  terms,  thank  you,  Bridge." 

"  Eh,  what  ?  Oh  !  you  don't  believe  I  have 
the  letter  ;  there  it  is." 

He  pulled  out  two  or  three  envelopes  from 
a  pocket-book.  "That's  it,"  he  said,  "inside 
that  thumbed  grey  envelope ;  the  other  is 
the  letter  that  you  wrote  me  before  settling 
to  pay  up — talking  a  lot  of  high  faluting  about 
expecting  me  to  believe  your  innocence  for 
the  sake  of  auld  lang  syne,  etc.,  as  if  I  should 
be  such  a  fool ! " 

"  Destroy  that  letter,  anyhow,"  St.  Quentin 


A   PROPOSAL  189 

said,  his  thin  hands  clenching.  "  It's  a  bit 
of  a  mockery  to  keep  it  now.  I  still  be- 
lieved in  you  more  or  less  when  I  wrote 
it,  you  see." 

Sir  Algernon  laughed  easily.  "  You  were 
always  a  bit  of  a  fool,  Quin,  from  Eton  days 
onwards.  As  you  say,  I  may  as  well  get 
rid  of  this  precious  production  of  yours. 
There's  not  much  sentiment  left  nowadays 
about  our  intercourse  with  one  another,  is 
there  ?  and  I've  nearly  muddled  it  with  the 
jockey's  before  now.  Here  goes! — Stop,  let 
me  just  make  sure  I've  got  the  right  one  ;  yes, 
that's  it,  the  cream-coloured  envelope  with 
'  Re  Quin'  on  the  back.  Aren't  I  a  model 
man  of  business,  eh  ?  There  goes  your  letter 
to  me  into  the  flames,  old  chap,  and  yours 
to  Duncombe  back  into  my  pocket-book  until 
you  choose  to  have  it  follow  suit ! " 

"  I  don't  choose." 

"What?" 

"  I  reject  most  absolutely  your  proposal, 
thank  you.  I've  been  a  fool  and  worse,  but 
I'm  not  quite  the  cad  that  comes  to.  I'd 
sooner  see  her  marry  that  young  Chichester !  " 

Sir  Algernon's  face  wore  no  very  amiable 
expression.  "  Is  that  your  final  answer  ?  "  he 
said. 


I9O  SYDNEY    LISLE 

"  It  IS." 

"  You  dorit  mean  to  help  me  marry 
Sydney  ?  " 

"  No,  and  what's  more,  I  don't  intend  to 
have  you  in  the  Castle  any  longer.  You're  not 
fit  to  associate  with  a  girl  like  that.  The 
Chichesters  have  brought  her  up  the  right 
way,  anyhow,  and  I  don't  intend  to  have  you 
with  her  any  longer.  You  must  go — and — how 
much  do  you  ask  for  destroying  Duncombe's 
letter,  for  good  and  all  ?  I  won't  have  the 
child  blackmailed  when  I'm  gone.  You  must 
destroy  the  letter  in  my  sight  this  time.  How 
much  payment  do  you  want  to  do  what  any 
decent  chap  would  have  done  long  ago  ?  " 

An  ugly  look  was  on  the  handsome  face 
before  him.  "  You'll  have  to  pay  this  time, 
my  boy,"  Sir  Algernon  said  slowly ;  "  well, 
rather  heavily." 

"  How  much?" 

Sir  Algernon,  without  moving  from  his 
lounging  posture  in  the  arm-chair,  named 
a  sum  which  made  St.  Quentin  start  with 
indignation. 

"You  are  well  aware  I  can't  pay  that,  or 
half  it !  "  he  cried. 

"  Well,  don't,  then !  I  daresay  Miss  Lisle 
will  be  a  little  less  stingy,  when  she  comes  of 


A    PROPOSAL  IQI 

age,  and  I  enquire  if  she  would  like  the  letter 
published." 

St.  Quentin's  hands  clenched  over  one 
another. 

"  Don't  be  such  a  fool,  old  chap,"  his  com- 
panion said,  rising  and  coming  close  to  him. 
"  I  don't  really  want  to  be  hard  upon  you. 
Give  me  your  word  you'll  manage  the  match, 
and  I'll  destroy  the  letter  on  the  spot,  and, 
what's  more,  turn  over  a  new  leaf  as  well. 
You  needn't  be  afraid  she  won't  be  happy — 
I'll  reform  when  I  marry  that  little  girl." 

"  Have    done    with    Sydney,    please.       I'd 
sooner  see  her  dead  than  married  to  you ! " 
"  Pay  up,  then,"  sneered  Sir  Algernon. 
"  Can  you  do  nothing  for  the  cottages  ?  " 
"  Weve  never  let  the  timber  go,  my  boy," 
"  Can  you  do  nothing  for  the  cottages  ?  " 
Without  answering  Sir  Algernon,  St.  Quentin 
seized  pen  and  paper,  and  began  again — 

"  DEAR  FANE — 

"  Cut  the  timber  from  .  .  .** 

The  knock  at  the  door  was  unheard  by 
both,  and  neither  noticed  Sydney's  entrance. 

She  had  changed  her  wet  clothes,  but  her 
hair  hung  straight  and  damp  about  her  face. 
The  face  itself  was  bright  with  exercise,  and 


1 92  SYDNEY    LISLE 

looked  a  strange  contrast  to  the  faces  of  the 
two  men  in  the  lamp-lit  library. 

"  You  sent  for  me  ?"  she  said,  going  straight 
up  to  her  cousin. 

"  Yes,  dear,  but  it  doesn't  matter  now,"  he 
said.  "  Go  back  to  Miss  Osric." 

She  looked  at  him.  "  You  are  very 
tired,  St.  Quentin  !  Let  me  write  that  letter 
for  you." 

Sue  laid  her  hand  upon  the  desk.  "  You 
ought  not  to  be  bothered  with  letters  when  you 
are  so  tired,  and,"  with  a  reproachful  glance 
at  Sir  Algernon,  "  I  am  sure  that  you  ought 
not  to  talk  business  any  longer." 

"  It's  not  the  talking  which  has  tired  him, 
Miss  Lisle,"  said  Sir  Algernon  ;  "  it's  the 
thought  of  something  rather  disagreeable  he 
must  do,  unless  you  care  to  save  him 
from  it!" 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Bridge!"  said  St. 
Quentin,  but  Sydney  had  already  made  a  quick 
step  towards  Sir  Algernon. 

"  Will  you  tell  me,  please,  what  I  can 
do  to  save  my  cousin's  trouble  ? "  she  said 
simply.  "  I  would  do  anything  I  could  for 
him." 

"  Sydney  !  "  cried  St.  Quentin  hoarsely,  but 
Sir  Algernon  had  sprung  forward  and  caught 


1 '  I  do  not  believe  one  word  you  say  against  my  cousin!' 


(Page  195) 


A    PROPOSAL  195 

the  girl's  hands  in  his.  "  Sydney!  would  you  ? 
Shall  I  tell  you  ?  " 

Her  cousin's  voice  behind  her  made  her 
start ;  it  was  so  full  of  concentrated  fury. 
"  Let  her  go,  you  scoundrel !  Sydney,  leave 
the  room,  dear ;  that  man  isn't  fit  to  speak 
to  you !  " 

She  pulled  her  hands  away,  and  stood 
between  the  two,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 
Sir  Algernon  lost  in  his  anger  the  last  vestige 
of  his  self-control. 

"If  I'm  unfit  to  speak  to  her,  what  are 
you,  St.  Quentin  ?  "  he  snarled.  "  A  cheat — a 
liar — a  trickster — a " 

"How  dare  you  ! "  Sydney  cried,  flinging 
herself  on  her  knees  beside  her  cousin's  couch 
as  though  to  protect  him.  "  Leave  the  room, 
please  ! " 

"  You  wouldn't  cling  about  him  if  you  knew 
what  I  know.  What  everybody  else  shall 
shortly  know  !  "  Sir  Algernon  said  between  his 
teeth.  "  He  is " 

Sydney  had  left  childhood  behind  her  as  she 
faced  him  with  clear,  scornful  eyes  that  met  his 
fearlessly. 

"  You  need  not  trouble  to  say  any  more," 
she  said,  "  for  I  do  not  believe  one  word  that 
you  say  against  my  Cousin  St.  Quentin  !  " 


196  SYDNEY    LISLE 

In  the  stillness  that  followed  a  footman 
knocked  and  came  in  with  a  something  on 
a  salver.  "  A  telegram  for  Sir  Algernon,  my 
lord,"  he  said. 

Sir  Algernon  tore  it  open  and  read  it, 
changing  colour  as  he  did  so,  then  crumpled 
it  and  tossed  it  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
blazing  fire.  "  I  have  to  write  an  answer  for 
the  post,"  he  said.  "  Au  revoir,  Quin ;  we'll 
finish  our  talk  when  reluctantly  deprived  of 
Miss  Lisle's  society.  Miss  Lisle,  if  you  still 
doubt  what  I  said  about  St.  Quentin,  ask  him 
what  I  meant.  He  knows." 

He  went  out  hurriedly. 


CHAPTER    XVII 
ST.  QUENTIN'S   STORY 

ST.  QUENTIN  looked  at  Sydney's  earnest  face 
in  silence  for  a  moment,  then  spoke  abruptly : 

"  Sit  down.  I've  a  good  mind  to  tell  you  a 
story  which  will  make  you  understand — well, 
a  good  many  things — among  others  what  a 
contemptible  cad  I  really  am.  It  isn't  a 
particularly  pretty  story,  but  you  may  as  well 
know  all  about  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  one  word  Sir  Algernon  said 
about  you,"  she  answered,  flushing.  "  Don't 
tell  me  anything,  St.  Quentin.  I  don't  want 
to  hear ! " 

"  A  part  of  what  he  said  was  true,  none  the 
less,"  he  answered  steadily.  "  Listen.  You 
know  Bridge  is  five  or  six  years  my  senior, 
and  he  patronised  me  when  I  was  a  little  chap 
in  turn-down  collars  at  Eton.  Of  course  he 
left  years  before  I  did ;  but  when  I  went  into 
the  Guards  he  was  a  captain  in  my  regiment, 


198  SYDNEY    LISLE 

and  the  old  intimacy  grew  up  again.  I  was 
a  young  fool  and  flattered  by  the  friendship, 
as  I  thought  it,  of  a  man  who  had  seen  the 
world.  Well,  luckily  you've  had  no  chance  of 
knowing  what  fools  youngsters  in  the  Guards 
can  make  of  themselves  ! 

"My  father  paid  my  debts  again  and  again, 
until  he  grew  sick  of  it,  and  said  I  must 
resign  my  commission :  he  couldn't  stand  any 
more. 

"  I  was  sobered  by  that,  for  my  father  and 
mother  were  awfully  cut  up  about  it,  and  I 
knew  they  had  treated  me  far  better  than  ever 
I  deserved.  I  did  try  to  pull  up  then,  and 
pretty  soon — no,  don't  stir  the  fire,  I  like  the 
dark — I  got  to  know  a  girl  ...  it  doesn't 
matter  who,  except  that  she  was  a  great  deal 
too  good  for  me.  .  .  .  She  was  interested  in 
the  cottages,  like  you  are,  Sydney.  You  re- 
mind me  of  her  now  and  then,  and  she  was 
just  eighteen  when  first  I  knew  her,  nine  years 
ago. 

"  Well,  my  extravagance  had  crippled  my 
father,  and  he  couldn't  do  half  he  wanted  for 
his  cottages.  She  minded  that  a  good  deal, 
I  remember.  I  felt  quite  certain  that  if  she 
would  only  be  engaged  to  me,  I  should  find 
it  impossible  to  be  reckless  or  extravagant 


ST.  QUENTIN'S  STORY  199 

again ;  but  her  father  wouldn't  hear  of  an  en- 
gagement then,  and  even  she  said  I  must  give 
proof  of  being  trustworthy. 

"It  was  at  this  time,  when  I  was  half 
maddened  by  the  constant  restrictions  laid 
upon  our  intercourse,  that  I  chanced  on  Bridge 
again.  We  had  never  quite  dropped  each 
other ;  and  when  he  left  the  Guards  and  went 
into  a  regiment  of  Dragoons  which  was 
quartered  at  Donisbro'  he  came  and  looked 
me  up  at  St.  Quentin.  We  saw  a  lot  of  each 

other,  and  I  introduced  him  at  the to  the 

girl's  father,  and  he  went  to  the  house  a  good 
deal.  She  never  liked  him  much,  though,  I 
fancy  ...  I  was  sick  to  death  of  home  and 
a  quiet  life  and  trying  to  take  an  interest  in 
the  estate  and  tenants,  as  my  father  wished, 
and  was  ready  enough  to  join  in  the  diversions 
of  the  officers.  There  wasn't  much  harm  in 
that — they  were  mostly  a  good  set,  but  it  was 
a  rich  regiment,  and  I  found  the  money  going 
faster  than  I  liked. 

"  I  had  always  been  noted  in  the  Guards  for 
my  horses — so  was  Bridge.  I  know  we  got 
talking  horses  one  day,  and  bets  passed  about 
the  respective  mettle  of  my  favourite,  Bridge's, 
and  another  chap's — young  Gibbs,  who  also 
fancied  himself  as  a  judge  of  horse-flesh, 

13 


2OO  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Somehow  a  race  was  arranged,  and  we  got  our 
jockeys  and  each  put  a  horse  in  training. 

"  I  was  mad,  I  think,  for  I  took  enormous 
bets  on  my  Maclvor  beating  the  other  two 
hollow.  I  somehow  felt  that  I  must  win,  and 
then  you  see  I  could  have  recouped  myself  for 
my  losses  at  cards,  and  started  fair  again  ;  at 
least  I  thought  I  could — that  sort  of  fair  start 
isn't  worth  much,  really.  The  only  kind  of 
fair  start  that  is  any  good  is  to  set  your 
face  against  temptation  :  that's  the  kind  she 
wanted. 

"  My  people  were  at  Nice  just  then.  My 
mother  had  been  ill.  If  they  had  been  at 
home  I  could  hardly  have  gone  so  far.  But 
I  was  pretty  desperate,  and  everybody  knew 
it.  That  made  things  look  all  the  blacker  for 
me  later  on.  .  .  .  Two  days  before  the  race 
I  got  thrown,  and  broke  my  right  arm.  I 
was  cut  about  the  head  too,  and  Lorry  kept 
me  in  bed,  though  I  was  wild  to  be  up  and 
doing.  Then,  as  I  couldn't  go  to  the  race,  I 
did  the  idiotic  act  which  ruined  me,  though  I 
didn't  really  get  much  worse  than  I  deserved. 
I  wrote  to  my  jockey  Duncombe,  urging  him 
to  win  the  race  at  all  costs,  and  promising  him 
a  heavy  sum  extra  to  his  pay  if  he  did. 

"  I  remember  one  of  the  expressions  that  I 


ST.    QUENTIN  S    STORY  2OI 

used  was  '  pull  the  show  through  somehow — 
anyhow  ! ' 

"  It  was  a  feverish,  excited  kind  of  scrawl, 
and,  after  I'd  sent  it,  I  got  worse  and  didn't 
know  much  about  anything  for  the  next  week. 
Then  Bridge  came  to  see  me,  and  what  do 
you  think  he  said  ? 

"  The  bets  had  been  far  heaviest  on  us  two, 
Gibbs  wasn't  in  it  ...  but  it  was  he  who 
pulled  the  race  off,  after  all.  Bridge's  horse 
had  been  hurt,  and  fell  at  the  first  fence ; 
and  then  my  jockey  seemed  to  lose  his  head 
altogether,  all  the  lookers-on  said.  Do  you 
know  why?  No,  you  wouldn't;  but  they  did. 
Bridge  was  ready  to  kill  his  man,  Grey,  for 
not  watching  the  horse  carefully  enough,  and 
he  split  on  my  jockey  Duncombe,  whom  he 
had  seen  lurking  round  the  stable  the  night 
before  the  race.  Duncombe,  to  save  himself, 
told  Bridge  he  had  injured  Bridge's  horse  by 
my  orders,  and  showed  up  the  letter  I  had 
written  him,  as  proof.  Everything  was  against 
me,  from  the  expressions  I  had  used  in  it  to 
the  fact  that  it  was  written  in  what  looked 
like  a  disguised  hand  and  was  unsigned.  (Lorry 
came  as  I  was  finishing  it,  and  I  knew  he 
would  stop  my  writing,  and  threw  it  into 
an  envelope  without  waiting  to  put  any  more.) 


2O2  SYDNEY    LISLE 

"  Bridge  didn't  make  the  letter  public.  He 
just  bought  it  off  the  jockey  and  came  to  me. 
He  absolutely  refused  to  believe  what  I  told 
him  of  my  innocence,  but  offered  to  suppress 
the  letter  if  I  would  pay  him  an  appalling 
sum  in  hush-money.  I  told  him  to  go  to 
Jericho  at  first,  but  when  I  got  up  again,  I 
realised  how  fishy  it  all  looked  for  me,  and 
how,  if  that  letter  were  published,  it  would 
be  taken  as  absolute  proof  of  my  guilt.  I 
felt — I  told  you  that  I  was  and  am  a  coward — 
that  it  would  break  my  father's  heart,  and  I 
couldn't  bear — her — to  think  that  I  had  done 
the  thing.  I  went  to  the  Jews,  raised  the 
sum  upon  a  post-obit,  and  paid  Bridge  his 
hush-money.  He  told  his  brother-officers  he 
was  satisfied  I  had  no  hand  in  the  laming 
of  the  horse,  but  he  didn't  destroy  the  letter. 
He  has  it  now,  and  at  intervals  blackmails 
me  with  a  threat  of  publication  if  I  won't  pay 
him  for  his  silence.  I  have  done  so  hitherto. 

"  That's  about  all,  Sydney.  You  see  now 
why  Bridge  is  here,  and  why  I  can't  do  my 
duty  by  my  tenants.  That  motor-smash  was 
about  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  me, 
I  suppose,  and  if  I  weren't  so  abominably 
strong,  I  should  have  left  a  better  Lisle  than 
I  am  in  possession  some  time  ago.  .  .  If  it 


ST.  QUENTIN'S  STORY  203 

weren't  for  the  old  name  that  has  been  handed 
down  pretty  clean  from  father  to  son  all  along 
the  line,  I'd  have  let  Bridge  publish  the  letter 
long  ago,"  he  added  bitterly.  "  She  wrote 
to  me  just  after  I  had  been  fool  enough  to 
pay  Bridge  his  hush-money.  She  must  have 
heard  the  rumours  against  me  and  believed 
in  them.  She  wrote,  giving  no  reason,  but 
saying  all  must  be  over  between  us.  That 
was  all — I  think  it  was  enough  ! " 

A  light  dawned  on  Sydney,  as  she  thought 
about  another  story  she  had  heard  not  so 
very  long  ago.  She  knelt  down  beside  him, 
and  laid  her  hands  on  his. 

"1  know  I'm  not  much  good,"  she  said, 
"  but,  Cousin  St.  Quentin,  I  do  care  for  you, 
in  spite  of  this.  Why  didn't  you  go  and  tell 
the  girl  all  about  it — just  everything,  as  you 
have  told  me  ?  Mother  says  if  you  love  people 
really  you  must  go  on  loving  even  if  they  do 
wrong,  because  the  real  love  that  is  put  into 
us  is  a  bit  of  God.  That  girl  would  have  gone 
on  loving  you — I  know  she  would." 

"  I  wish  to  goodness  I  had  let  Bridge  do  his 
worst ! "  said  St.  Quentin.  "  I  wish  I'd  had 
the  pluck  to  do  the  right  thing  then,  instead 
of  wasting  the  money  that  was  given  me  to 
use,  not  chuck  away.  Now  you  know  why 


2O4  SYDNEY    LISLE 

I'm  telling  Fane  to  ruin  the  estate  my  ancestors 
took  pride  in  by  cutting  down  the  timber  at 
the  bidding  of  that  man  !  Because  I  was  too 
great  a  coward  to  do  the  right  thing  first — 
when  I  could." 

Sydney  looked  her  cousin  in  the  face. 

"Please  forgive  me  if  I  am  very  impertinent, 
St.  Quentin,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  You  say 
you  wish  that  you  had  done  the  right  thing 
then."  She  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  then 
spoke  the  last  words  firmly  :  "  You  wish  that  you 
had  done  it  then — why  don't  you  do  it  now  ?  " 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

THE   CHAIN    BROKEN 

FOR  a  full   minute   there   was  silence   in   the 
big  room.     Then  St.  Quentin  looked  up. 

"  L's  rather  late  in  the  day,"  he  said,  "  but 
possibly  better  late  than  never.  Sydney,  will 
you  write  a  letter  for  me  ?  " 

She  thought  of  another  letter  she  had  written 
for  him  more  than  two  months  ago,  but  there 
was  a  considerable  difference  in  the  subject 
matter  of  that  letter  and  to-day's. 

"  DEAR  FANE," — he  dictated — "  we  must 
have  five  hundred  pounds'  worth  of  timber 
down  as  soon  as  possible,  as  I  want  fresh 
cottages  to  replace  those  in  Water  Lane 
and  Foxholes.  Have  workmen  over  im- 
mediately. This  rebuilding  is  by  the  wish  of 
my  heir,  Miss  Lisle." 

"  Now  bring  it  me  to  sign,"  her  cousin  said. 

She  brought  it,  and,  as  she  gave  him  his 
pen,  she  did  what  she  had  never  done  before, 

she  stooped  and  kissed  his  forehead. 

205 


2O6  SYDNEY    LISLE 

"  I  didn't  like  to  tell  you  before,"  she  cried, 
"  because  you  said  you  could  do  nothing  for 
the  cottages,  but  Mrs.  Sawyer  is  ill,  and  when 
I  went  to  see  her  this  afternoon  she  said  she 
never  would  be  better  while  she  lived  in  that 
cottage.  Will  she  have  one  of  the  new  ones, 
St.  Quentin?" 

"Yes,  and  I'll  mark  hers  for  pulling  down. 
We'll  do  this  business  thoroughly  while  we're 
about  it,  beginning  with  Lislehurst,  but  going  on 
to  the  rest." 

He  wrote  his  signature  large  and  clearly. 
As  he  did  so,  Sir  Algernon  came  back  into 
the  room.  He  glanced  at  the  letter. 

"  So  you've  done  it.  I  say,  my  dear  fellow, 
philanthropy  is  all  very  well,  but  you  can't 
afford  it  at  present." 

"  Since  when  did  I  give  you  leave  to  read 
my  private  letters  ? "  asked  St.  Quentin  drily. 
As  he  spoke  he  placed  the  letter  in  an  envelope, 
directed  it,  and  put  it  into  Sydney's  hand. 

"  One  of  the  men  is  to  take  it  over  to  Fane's 
place  at  once,"  he  said. 

Sir  Algernon  stood  between  the  girl  and 
the  door.  "  You're  mad,  Quin  !  You'll  have 
enough  to  do  to  raise  my  screw,  without 
attempting  any  more." 

"  Let  Miss    Lisle   pass,"   said    St.    Quentin 


THE    CHAIN    BROKEN  2OJ 

quietly.  "  On  the  proverbial  second  thoughts, 
which  we  all  know  to  be  not  only  better,  but 
best,  I  have  changed  my  mind.  Publish 
Duncombe's  letter  if  you  choose  !  I'll  not  pay 
a  farthing  more  to  stop  you,  nor  will  Miss 
Lisle  when  she  comes  of  age.  That's  all. 
Sydney," — the  girl  was  at  the  door — "  tell 
somebody  to  let  Bridge's  man  know  that  he 
finds  he  has  to  catch  the  8.15  to  town  to- 
night." 

The  girl  went  out,  the  precious  note  in  her 
hand  and  a  tumult  of  joy  in  her  heart. 

That  horrible  Sir  Algernon  was  leaving,  and 
St.  Quentin,  of  his  own  freewill,  was  going  to 
rebuild  his  neglected  cottages.  She  felt  she 
could  have  danced,  despite  the  dignity  of  her 
eighteen  years. 

In  the  entrance  hall  she  met  the  old  doctor, 
struggling  out  of  his  wet  mackintosh  and 
goloshes.  "  What  a  night ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  But  this  disgusting  weather  seems  to  suit 
you,  my  dear  Miss  Lisle.  You  are  looking 
blooming,  if  you  will  allow  an  old  man  to  say 
so.  How  is  your  cousin,  eh  ?  Moped  a  bit 
this  dreary  day,  no  doubt  ?  Meant  to  look  in 
upon  him  earlier  to  see  if  he  fancied  a  chat, 
but  I  was  kept  in  the  village.  And  that 
reminds  me,  my  dear  young  lady,  I  shouldn't 


2O8  SYDNEY    LISLE 

go  to  Loam  for  a  day  or  two,  if  I  were  you  ; 
they've  got  something  about  there  that  I  don't 
quite  like  the  look  of.  I've  been  warning 
the  Vicar ;  that  boy  of  his  follows  him  about 
like  a  dog  to  all  the  cottages.  Not  that  this 
kind  of  low  fever  is  infectious,  but  you  may 
take  my  word  for  it  that  where  there's  fever 
there's  a  reason  for  it.  So  don't  you  go  to 
Loam  till  I  give  you  leave.  Not  that  I'm 
anxious,  you  know,  not  at  all." 

Sydney  thought  the  old  doctor  was  rather 
more  anxious  than  he  cared  to  own.  His  face 
was  considerably  graver  than  usual  as  he  walked 
across  the  hall  to  the  door  of  the  library. 

As  he  reached  it,  Sydney,  who  had  followed 
him,  caught  his  hand  with  a  cry  of  terror. 
"  Oh,  go  in  quickly  ! "  she  cried. 

Sir  Algernon  had  been  almost  stunned  by 
astonishment  for  the  first  few  minutes  after 
Sydney  had  left  the  room  with  the  letter  which 
practically  spelt  defeat  to  him.  There  was  a 
changed,  drawn  look  about  his  face,  when  at 
length  he  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to 
speak. 

"  You  don't  mean  what  you  said  just  now  ?  " 
he  demanded  hoarsely. 

"  I  do.  Will  you  dine  before  you  leave, 
Bridge?" 


THE   CHAIN    BROKEN 

"  Oh,  confound  you ! " 

"  Don't  make  a  scene,  it  is  quite  un- 
necessary." 

Sir  Algernon  laughed  rather  wildly,  and 
played  his  last  card. 

"  You  won't  be  able  to  take  that  high  line 
much  longer,  my  good  fellow ! "  he  snarled, 
fumbling  in  his  pocket-book.  "  I'll  just  re- 
fresh your  memory  on  the  subject  of  the 
expressions  used  by  you  in  that  precious  letter 
before  it — goes  to  press  ! " 

St.  Quentin's  tone  was  calm  enough.    "  Do." 

Sir  Algernon  drew  out  the  dirty  envelope 
on  which  "  Re  Duncombe "  was  scrawled  in 
his  own  hand,  and  pulled  from  it  a  letter  in 
the  cramped  left-hand  writing. 

"  Here  we  are.  Some  of  these  expressions 
will  look  rather  fine  in  print,  I  fancy ;  the 
Society  papers  will  have  a  treat.  Why——" 

A  violent  exclamation  burst  from  him,  as 
he  stared  wildly,  first  at  the  letter  in  his 
hand,  then  at  the  envelope,  and  back  at  the 
letter  again. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  St.  Quentin. 

Sir  Algernon  came  quickly  towards  him. 
"You  made  me  do  it!"  he  hissed.  "You 
made  me  burn  your  note  to  Duncombe.  Your 
letter  to  me  and  to  Duncombe  were  in  each 


2IO  SYDNEY    LISLE 

other's  envelopes,  and  you  made  me  burn  the 
wrong  one!"  His  voice,  loud,  harsh,  and 
grating  in  his  fury,  rang  out  into  the  hall, 
despite  the  heavy  curtain  over  the  door  of 
the  library.  "  You  made  me  do  it,  and 
I'll " 

"  Don't  touch  me,"  said  St.  Quentin,  vaguely 
aware  as  he  spoke  that  all  might  well  be  over 
before  Dickson  had  the  time  to  answer  his 
ring.  "  It  wouldn't  take  a  great  deal  to  finish 
me,  you  see,  and  Lorry  would  require  an 
explanation." 

"  He  does  !  "  the  old  doctor  cried,  hurrying 
into  the  room  with  Sydney  at  his  heels.  "  May 
I  ask  what  you're  doing,  Sir  Algernon  ?  Get 
a  little  farther  off  from  my  patient,  if  you 
please." 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,"  said  St.  Quentin, 
"  Bridge  and  I  were  only  discussing  my  new 
scheme  for  rebuilding  the  cottages.  But, 
interesting  as  I  find  his  views,  I  am  afraid 
we  shall  have  to  close  the  discussion,  as  he 
has  a  train  to  catch.  Good-bye,  Bridge." 

Sir  Algernon  turned  fiercely  upon  him. 

"  You  think  you've  won  the  game  and  can 
keep  your  secret  in  your  hands.  You  can't ! 
Miss  Morrell  read  the  letter.  I  showed  it  to 
her,  and  she  read  it  and  asked  what  it  meant. 


THE   CHAIN    BROKEN  2\l 

I  told  her  and  she  believed  in  me — not  you  ! 
not  you ! " 

"She  did  not\"  said  Sydney,  "for  she  told 
me  all  about  it.  She  believed  in  it  just  at 
first,  because  she  did  not  know  how  wicked 
you  could  be,  Sir  Algernon.  But  by-and- 
by,  when  she  grew  older,  she  knew  that  St. 
Quentin  could  not  possibly  have  done  what 
you  accused  him  of.  She  didn't  understand 
about  the  letter  to  the  jockey ;  but  she  just 
knew  that  St.  Quentin  could  not  possibly  be 
mean  or  dishonourable.  And  she  knows  you 
are  both ! " 

"Hear,  hear!"  said  Dr.  Lorry,  in  a  very 
audible  aside,  and  Sir  Algernon,  muttering 
some  indistinguishable  remark  about  his  train, 
went  out. 

"  Lord  St.  Quentin,  your  heir  is  a  trump !  " 
the  old  doctor  said  enthusiastically,  and  St. 
Quentin,  as  he  bade  good-night  to  Sydney, 
agreed. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

PAULY'S  BIRTHDAY 

A  SMALL  army  of  workmen  had  appeared  at 
Lislehurst,  and  the  village  folk  were  beginning 
to  realise  the  incredible  fact  that  their  mar- 
quess did  at  length  intend  to  do  his  duty 
by  them,  when  Pauly's  fifth  birthday  came 
round. 

"  May  I  have  him  to  tea  with  me  ?  "  Sydney 
asked,  and  on  receiving  permission  began  to 
make  extensive  preparations  in  the  way  of 
good  cheer. 

Mrs.  Fewkes  was  easily  induced  to  devote 
her  energies  to  the  making  of  a  truly  stupend- 
ous cake,  conical  in  shape  and  covered  with 
white  sugar,  adorned  with  amazing  flowers 
and  fruits  of  all  colours.  And  there  were  birds, 
butterflies,  and  beetles  made  of  chocolate  upon 
it,  and  five  pink  candles  fixed  around  its  top- 
most peak,  to  signify  the  five  years  which  the 
small  birthday  king  would  have  reached. 


PAULYS    BIRTHDAY  213 

Not  content  with  this  marvel  of  confec- 
tionery, Mrs.  Fewkes  further  added  dishes  of 
cream,  buns,  and  other  delicacies  for  which  she 
was  deservedly  famous,  so  altogether  Pauly's 
birthday  tea  bid  fair  to  be  a  very  great  success. 

It  was  spread  in  the  schoolroom,  and  on 
his  plate  was  seated  a  large  furry  toy  dog,  with 
red  tongue  hanging  out  in  a  ddgagt  manner, 
and  a  spring  which,  when  pressed,  caused  him 
to  jump  uncertainly  about,  and  also  bark  in 
a  thin  and  spasmodic  way.  This  was  Sydney's 
present  to  the  hero  of  the  day.  Miss  Osric 
had  contributed  a  box  of  bricks,  which  stood 
upon  his  chair. 

All  was  in  readiness  at  four  o'clock,  when 
Pauly  arrived  in  charge  of  his  nurse,  looking 
rather  extra  fat  and  red  about  the  cheeks, 
Sydney  thought. 

He  was  immensely  excited  over  something 
and  would  not  wait,  as  she  suggested,  to  take 
off  his  little  overcoat  upstairs,  but  insisted  on 
removing  it  the  very  moment  he  had  set  two 
rather  muddy  little  feet  inside  the  hall. 

The  reason  of  his  eagerness  was  soon 
apparent.  The  blouse  and  bunchy  petticoats 
were  raiment  of  the  past ;  Pauly  was  attired 
in  all  the  glories  of  his  first  sailor  suit ! 

Sydney  knelt  down  beside  the  small  sturdy 


214  SYDNEY    LISLE 

figure  and  kissed  the  round  important  little 
face.  "Why,  Pauly,  you  are  splendid!  and 
what  a  great  big  boy  you  look  to-day ! " 

"  As  big  as  Daddy  ?  "  he  enquired. 

"  Ever  so  much  bigger  than  you  looked 
when  first  I  saw  you,"  Sydney  answered, 
evading  the  question  with  dexterity.  "  Isn't 
he  a  man  to-day,  Miss  Osric?" 

Miss  Osric  admired  duly,  and  then  suggested 
an  adjournment  to  the  schoolroom.  But  Pauly 
stood  like  a  rock,  his  legs  planted  wide  apart 
and  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  Want  to  show  my  twousers  to  Mrs. 
Fewkes,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  but  you  can't,  little  man,"  said  Miss 
Osric. 

"  Come,  Pauly  !  "  Sydney  cried. 

He  did  not  budge. 

"  Want  to  show  my  twousers  to  Mr. 
Gweaves." 

Sydney  and  Miss  Osric  exchanged  puzzled 
glances.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Of  course 
he  was  naughty,  but  neither  liked  to  scold  him 
on  a  birthday. 

Sydney  had  recourse  to  coaxing. 

"  There  is  such  a  lovely  cake  upstairs,"  she 
said,  "a  cake  as  high  as  that."  She  held  her 
hand  some  distance  from  the  floor.  "It  has 


PAULY'S  BIRTHDAY  215 

sugar  all  over  it  and  such  lovely  fruits  and  sweets, 
white  and  pink,  and  all  kinds  of  nice  things 
upon  it.  Don't  you  want  to  see  it,  Pauly  ?  " 

He  scorned  bribery.  "  Want  to  show  my 
twousers  to  the  ill  one  ! " 

"  What,  dear?" 

"  To  the  ill  one.  Want  to  show  my  twousers 
to  the  ill  one  !  " 

"  Lord  St.  Quentin,  I  suppose  he  means," 
Miss  Osric  said  aside  to  Sydney.  "  But  I  don't 
think  he  would  like  to  see  the  child,  do  you  ?  " 

Sydney  was  rather  doubtful.  "  There  is 
something  so  wonderful  upstairs  in  your  plate, 
Pauly,"  she  assured  him  insidiously  ;  "  some- 
thing that  has  such  a  nice  funny  voice,  and 
jumps  about  too,  doesn't  it,  Miss  Osric?" 

Pauly  put  one  irresolute  foot  forward  in 
the  direction  of  the  bear-guarded  staircase, 
and  then  drew  it  back  again. 

"  Want  to  show  my  twousers  to  the  ill  one, ' 
he  said,  in  the  same  loud  sing-song  voice  as 
he  had  used  before. 

It  is  sad  to  relate  that  two  grown-up  girls 
were    worsted    by    this    scrap    ot     manhood 
wearing  to-day  manly  garb  for  the  first  time 
Sydney  rose  from  her  knees  and  went  toward 
the   library.     "  I    will   ask  St.    Quentin,"   she 
said,  feeling  rather  small. 

14 


2l6  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Her  cousin  seemed  rather  tickled  by  the 
story  of  the  fight. 

"  Oh,  bring  him  to  me,  by  all  means  !  "  he 
said.  "  Upon  my  word !  that  boy  ought  to 
make  a  Prime  Minister.  He  has  enough 
force  of  character  for  anything.  Tell  him 
the  '  ill  one '  will  be  charmed  to  see  the 
trousers !  " 

Sydney  led  the  boy  in,  whispering  to  him 
not  to  make  a  noise,  for  Lord  St.  Quentin 
was  very  tired. 

"  Never  make  a  noise,"  he  assured  her,  with- 
out much  regard  for  truth. 

St.  Quentin  surveyed  his  small  visitor  with 
fixed  and  flattering  attention.  "Hullo!"  he 
said,  "  what's  this  huge  chap  coming  in  ?  The 
Vicar  himself,  I  suppose  ?  Oh,  his  son,  is  it, 
Sydney  ?  Well,  how  are  you,  eh,  Paul  ?  Is 
that  your  name  ?  Going  to  shake  hands  with 
me — that's  right.  I  suppose  you're  seven  at 
least,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  five,"  Pauly  said,  with  modest 
elation. 

"Dear  me!  and  I'm  thirty-five  and  not 
half  so  proud  of  it.  And  these  are  the  new 
trousers.  Upon  my  word  !  they're  remarkably 
fine  specimens,  aren't  they,  Sydney  ?  You 
want  a  pinch  for  your  new  clothes,  don't  you, 


PAULY'S  BIRTHDAY  217 

youngster?  or  would  you  rather  have  a 
sixpence  to  put  into  each  of  those  trouser 
pockets  ?  What,  you  would  rather  have  the 
sixpences  ?  That's  odd,  isn't  it  ?  There, 
put  them  in  your  pockets,  and  now  you  may 
run  away  ;  only  don't  eat  quite  all  the  cake 
Miss  Lisle  has  provided  for  you,  or  you  won't 
be  able  to  walk  home !  He  looks  as  if  he 
eats  too  much  already,"  he  concluded  aside 
to  Sydney.  "  What  a  colour  the  child  has  !  " 

"  He  is  a  good  deal  redder  than  usual, 
and  fatter-looking  too,"  Sydney  said.  "  I 
have  never  seen  him  look  quite  like  this 
before." 

11  Well,  don't  stuff  him  too  much,"  said  her 
cousin,  and  the  two  went  out. 

St.  Quentin's  caution  was  not  needed.  For 
once  Pauly  did  not  seem  hungry,  even  for 
cake.  He  was  delighted  with  his  dog  and 
kept  it  on  his  knee  all  through  tea-time,  but 
though  he  set  up  a  little  shout  of  joy  at  the 
sight  of  the  splendid  cake,  he  only  played 
with  the  noble  slice  that  Sydney  cut  for 
him,  and  couldn't  be  persuaded  to  be  hungry 
even  when  "  Carlo "  was  made  to  bark  for 
crumbs ! 

"  I  don't  think  the  child  is  well,"  said  Miss 
Osric. 


2l8  SYDNEY    LISLE 

They  gave  up  coaxing  him  to  eat  after 
that,  and  all  three  sat  upon  the  hearthrug, 
building,  with  Miss  Osric's  bricks,  a  most 
wonderful  kennel  for  Carlo. 

For  a  little  while  Pauly  seemed  happy,  and 
laughed  merrily  enough,  then  suddenly,  with- 
out apparent  reason,  he  began  to  cry. 

Sydney,  who  had  never  seen  the  manly 
little  fellow  shed  tears  yet  for  any  reason 
whatsoever,  was  alarmed. 

She  gathered  him  into  her  arms  and  tried 
to  find  out  what  was  wrong.  "What  is  it, 
Pauly,  darling?  Aren't  you  well?" 

"Want  Daddy?"  Pauly  sobbed,  nor  could 
they  comfort  him. 

Sydney  had  risen  to  ring  and  order  the 
pony-carriage,  thinking  that  she  and  Miss  Osric 
had  better  take  their  little  visitor  back  at  once 
to  the  daddy  he  was  crying  for,  when  one  of 
the  footmen  came  up  to  the  school-room  to  an- 
nounce "Mr.  Seaton  is  come  for  Master  Paul." 

Sydney  ran  downstairs  to  ask  if  Mr.  Seaton 
were  walking,  and  to  offer  the  pony-carriage. 
The  Vicar  was  looking  very  tired  and  grave, 
and  seemed  in  a  hurry  to  be  off.  He  said  he 
had  been  visiting  in  the  village  all  the  after- 
noon :  there  was  a  great  deal  of  illness  about. 
11 1  think  you  must  discontinue  your  working- 


PAULY'S    BIRTHDAY  219 

party  for  a  week  or  two,  Miss  Lisle,"  he  said. 
"  Dr.  Lorry  thinks  Mrs.  Sawyer  is  suffering 
from  some  kind  of  low  fever ;  the  same  thing 
which  seems  prevalent  in  Loam.  Don't  go 
into  her  cottage  for  a  day  or  two,  at  all  events, 
till  we  see  how  things  are.  I  am  keeping 
Pauly  from  the  village  now." 

Declining  the  offer  of  the  pony-carriage, 
he  took  his  small  son,  quiet  now  that  he  had 
got  his  daddy,  and  still  clasping  Carlo,  in 
his  arms,  and  the  two  went  out  together. 


CHAPTER    XX 

HUGH    TO   THE    RESCUE 

"  FEVER  epidemic  in  Blankshire.  Medical 
help  urgently  required.  The  villages  specially 
affected  by  the  fever,  are  Loam,  Hurstleigh, 
Marston,  Styles,  and  Lislehurst — all  on  the 
estate  of  the  Marquess  of  St.  Quentin. 

"  The  epidemic  is  of  a  very  serious  nature. 
The  Chief  Sanitary  Inspector  of  Donisbro' 
visited  the  affected  villages  upon  the  outbreak 
of  the  illness,  and  declares  the  cottages  to 
be  in  a  greatly  neglected  condition. 

"  The  local  physician  has  applied   for   help 

to  the  staff  of  the  London  Hospitals." 

*  *  *  *  * 

Hugh  Chichester  read  these  words  in  the 
hall  of  the  Blue-friars  Hospital,  as  he  and 
another  young  doctor  waited  for  a  "case," 
which  was  being  brought  in  from  the  street. 

"  Estate  of  the  Marquess  of  St.  Quentin," 


HUGH    TO    THE    RESCUE  221 

his  companion  commented.  "  Isn't  that  the 
chap  who  had  that  frightful  motor-smash  three 
months  ago  ?  Why,  hullo  !  Chichester,  old 
man  !  Are  you  off  your  head  ?  " 

For  Hugh  had  flung  himself  into  the  lift 
without  a  word,  and  was  swooping  upward 
to  the  first  floor,  where  he  knew  that  he  would 
find  his  father. 

The  doctor  was  free  for  the  moment,  but 
Hugh  knew  that  he  himself  was  not.  He 
only  paused  to  thrust  the  paper  in  his  father's 
hand,  with  a  hoarse  "  Read  that,"  and  was 
down  the  staircase  and  in  the  hall  again,  before 
the  "  case,"  upon  its  stretcher,  had  crossed 
the  wide  open  paved  courtyard  of  the  Blue- 
friars  Hospital. 

Dr.  Chichester  was  quick  of  understanding, 
as  doctors  generally  are. 

"You  want  to  go  to  Blankshire,  my  boy?" 
he  said,  when  he  and  his  son  met  for  their 
hastily-snatched  luncheon. 

"Yes,  father." 

"  I  think  it  may  be  possible,"  the  doctor 
said.  "  Help  is  certainly  needed,  to  judge  from 
the  papers,  and  I  would  not  hold  you  back. 
But,  my  boy,  you  must  remember  it  may  mean 
the  loss  of  your  post  here,  unless  the  Hospital 
elects  to  send  you  to  Blankshire." 


222  SYDNEY   LISLE 

Hugh  nodded. 

"  And,  Hugh,"  his  father  went  on,  "  you 
must  give  me  your  word  that  you  keep  away 
from  Sydney.  It  won't  be  easy,  but  I  know 
that  I  can  trust  you  to  think  of  her  and  not 
yourself.  You  want  to  spare  her  from  suffering 
what  you  suffer.  You  will  prove  yourself  her 
true  '  servant '  in  this,  as  '  Dorothy  Osborne ' 
would  say  to  us.  If  you  can  trust  yourself 
to  keep  clear  of  intercourse  with  her,  I  think 
that  you  are  right  to  volunteer  your  services. 
I  should  have  done  so  myself  years  ago." 

"Yes,  I'll  keep  away  from  her,"  Hugh 
muttered,  and  the  doctor  said,  "  All  right,  my 
boy,  I  trust  you.  We  will  see  what  your 
mother  says  to  sending  you  to  Blankshire." 

And  Mrs.  Chichester  said  "  Yes."  Perhaps 
those  little  snatches  of  fireside  talk,  for  which 
big  bearded  sons  on  the  other  side  of  the 
world  grow  homesick,  had  made  her  under- 
stand her  boy  with  that  absolute  understanding 
sympathy  which  only  mothers  have  the  power 
to  give. 

"  Yes,  you  must  go,  my  Hugh,"  she  said, 
"for  you  will  be  able  to  help  those  poor  people, 
and  I  know  that  you  will  be  my  unselfish  son, 
as  you  have  always  been,  and  make  it  easy 
for  Sydney." 


HUGH   TO   THE    RESCUE  223 

"  I  will,  mother,"  Hugh  said,  and  so  packed 
his  things  and  offered  his  services  to  Dr.  Lorry. 

The  old  doctor  met  him  at  Dacreshaw 
Station  ;  he  was  looking  older  and  his  cheery 
utterances  came  out  with  an  effort. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Chichester, 
extremely  glad ;  for  I  can't  deny  that  this 
fever  is  a  very  serious  one,  and  the  condition 
of  the  cottages  is  so  much  against  the  poor 
people's  chances  of  recovery.  Still,  I  have 
no  doubt,  no,  none  at  all,  that,  with  your  able 
assistance,  we  shall  soon  see  a  marked  im- 
provement." 

"  They  haven't  got  it  at  the  Castle,  have 
they?"  Hugh  asked  anxiously  as  he  climbed 
up  into  the  high  dog-cart  by  the  old  doctor's 
side,  and  was  driven  rapidly  along  the  muddy 
country  roads  towards  Lislehurst. 

"No!  no!"  Dr.  Lorry  said,  "and  I  see 
no  real  reason  why  they  should.  Lady 
Frederica  is  extremely  anxious  to  carry  off 
Miss  Lisle  to  town,  but  I  have  endeavoured 
to  dissuade  her.  Miss  Lisle  has  been  so  much 
about  among  the  cottages  of  late,  that  I  am 
anxious — not  about  her,  oh  dear  no !  but 
anxious,  I  repeat,  to  have  her  under  my 
own  eye  for  a  day  or  two  longer.  And  it 
is  not  as  though  she  ran  any  risk  in  remaining, 


224  SYDNEY    LISLE 

as  I  have  assured  Lord  St.  Quentin.  These 
low  fevers  cannot  well  be  called  infectious." 
He  relapsed  into  silence, — an  unusual  state 
with  him — which  lasted  till  they  reached  Lisle- 
hurst,  and  his  own  gate.  They  got  down  and 
a  man  took  the  cob's  head.  "  Now  we  are  at 
my  house,  my  dear — er,  Chichester,"  he  said, 
rousing  himself,  "  and  perhaps,  when  you  have 
lunched,  you  would  not  mind  coming  round 
with  me  to  see  the  little  boy  at  the  Vicarage, 
who  is,  I  fear,  in  a  rather  critical  condition." 

Hugh  started.  "  Little  Paul  ill !  I  will 
come  at  once,  if  you  don't  mind,  sir." 

"  You  will  come  at  once  ?  Well,  if  you  are 
not  fatigued,  I  own  it  would  be  a  relief. 
His  condition  is  decidedly  critical,  and  your 
science  is  a  good  deal  fresher  than  mine. 
Not  that  I  take  at  all  a  hopeless  view  of 
his  case,  far  from  it !  "  the  old  doctor  said, 
btowing  his  nose  rather  fiercely  ;  "but  he's  his 
father's  only  child,  sir,  and — motherless." 

Hugh  was  already  hurrying  out  into  the 
village  by  the  old  doctor's  side.  "  Little 
Pauly  ill ! — that  jolly  little  chap ! "  he  kept 
on  saying,  and  he  walked  so  fast  that  the 
old  man  could  hardly  keep  pace  with  him. 

There  was  a  strange  silence  in  the  village. 
Hardly  any  children  were  playing  in  the 


HUGH    TO    THE    RESCUE  225 

road.  "  We  had  to  shut  the  schools,"  said 
Dr.  Lorry. 

The  village  seemed  almost  as  though  it 
held  its  breath  and  waited  for  some  stroke 
to  fall. 

Hugh  looked  up  at  the  tall,  grey  tower  of 
Lislehurst  Church  as  they  passed  beneath  it, 
and  thought  of  little  Pauly  as  he  had  been  on 
that  bright  December  morning,  full  of  life  and 
mischief.  It  seemed  incredible  to  imagine 
illness  or  death  coming  near  him. 

Dr.  Lorry  followed  the  direction  of  his 
eyes. 

"  The  Vicar  told  me  of  that  morning  on 
the  tower,"  he  said.  "  You  saved  the  boy 
once,  Chichester ;  please  God,  you'll  save  him 
again." 

The  Vicarage  nursery  was  a  good  deal 
changed  from  the  cheerful  room  where  Sydney 
had  sat  on  her  first  morning  in  Blankshire. 
The  toys,  no  longer  wanted,  were  pushed  aside 
and  put  away  in  cupboards ;  their  absence 
giving  a  curiously  forlorn  appearance  to  the 
room. 

Sickroom  appliances  had  taken  their  place, 
and  the  little  iron  cot,  from  which  Pauly's 
restless  fingers  used  to  scrape  the  paint  on 
summer  mornings  when  getting-up  time 


22(5  SYDNEY    LISLE 

seemed  long  in  coming,  was  pulled  into  the 
centre  of  the  room. 

Pauly's  thick  red  curls  had  been  cropped 
close  to  his  head  for  coolness,  and  the  sturdy, 
roundabout  figure  was  shrunk  to  a  mere 
shadow  of  its  former  self.  It  was  hard  to 
believe  him  the  same  child  who  had  displayed 
the  glory  of  his  first  knickerbockers  with  such 
pride  at  the  Castle  only  a  short  week  ago  ! 

Beside  the  little  cot  the  Vicar  stood,  very 
quiet,  as  he  had  been  all  through  the  illness, 
but  with  eyes  that  asked  more  questions  than 
his  lips. 

But  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Hugh  with 
a  look  which  showed  that  he  had  not  forgotten 
that  morning  on  the  church  tower  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  trouble. 

"  Mr.  Chichester  indeed  )  I  could  hardly 
believe  Dr.  Lorry's  new  colleague  to  be  you. 
This  is  luck.  I  am  very  glad." 

His  eyes  were  searching  Hugh's  face  as  he 
spoke,  as  if  to  read  there  what  he  thought  of 
little  Pauly. 

"  These  young  men  have  all  the  science 
nowadays,"  old  Dr.  Lorry  said,  in  a  very 
audible  aside.  "  We'll  see  him  work  wonders 
with  the  boy,  please  God  !  " 

Pauly  was  lying  in  a  sort  of  restless  doze, 


HUGH    TO    THE    RESCUE  227 

and  they  would  not  wake  him.  One  arm 
clasped  Carlo's  black  form  to  his  heart. 

"He  wakes  and  cries  for  that  beast  if  he 
finds  it  gone,"  the  Vicar  whispered,  with  a 
sad  little  smile.  "  Tell  Miss  Lisle  when  you 
see  her,  Lorry." 

The  eyes  of  the  elder  men  watched  Hugh 
with  a  pathetic  eagerness  as  he  bent  above 
the  little  cot,  feeling  the  wasted  wrist,  and 
listening  to  the  uncertain  breathing. 

"  These  young  men  .  .  .  more  scientific 
treatment,"  the  old  doctor  said  again  and  again, 
in  a  husky  whisper.  But  all  Hugh  said  was, 
"  I  should  like  to  consult  with  Dr.  Lorry  over 
a  new  treatment." 

Further  directions  having  been  given  to  the 
nurse,  who  seemed  a  capable  kind  of  person, 
the  doctors  took  their  departure,  and  Mr. 
Seaton  accompanied  them  out. 

"  You  coming,  Vicar  ?  "  Dr.  Lorry  questioned 
with  surprise  in  his  tone. 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Seaton  said.  "  I  must  do  some 
visiting.  Mine  is  not  the  only  house  in  trouble 
to-day." 

And  with  a  last  look  at  Pauly,  lying  in  his 
cot,  he  passed  out  with  the  doctors  from  the 
shadowed  Vicarage. 

Where  the  road  to  the  village  skirted  the 


228  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Park  they  met  Sydney,  alone.  She  was 
walking  fast,  and  with  her  head  bent  down  : 
she  did  not  see  them  till  they  were  quite  close 
to  her.  Then  she  looked  up  suddenly,  and 
a  quick  flush  overspread  her  pale  face.  She 
hesitated  for  a  moment  :  then  went  forward 
with  outstretched  hand. 

Hugh  found  himself  taking  it  and  speaking 
to  her  as  a  mere  acquaintance. 

He  had  seen  the  account  of  the  epidemic 
in  the  papers,  and  the  Blue-friars  had  given 
him  permission  to  volunteer  his  services.  He 
was  glad  to  have  met  Sydney  to-day,  as  he 
should  be — very  busy — he  expected,  and  there 
would  be  no  seeing  anybody,  he  believed. 

And  there  he  broke  off,  stammering,  as  the 
clear  eyes  seemed  to  ask  the  meaning  of  this 
strange  manner  from  her  brother  Hugh,  who 
had  said  at  their  last  parting  that  "  he  under- 
stood." 

There  was  an  awkward  silence  of  full  a 
minute  before  Sydney  recollected  herself  and 
asked  after  Pauly.  "  Thank  you,  he  is  very 
ill,"  said  Pauly 's  father. 

And  then  Dr.  Lorry,  whose  kind  eyes  had 
seen  a  good  deal  during  Hugh's  rather  halting 
explanation,  interposed  with  professional 
authority. 


HUGH    TO    THE    RESCUE  22Q 

"  Miss  Lisle,  my  dear  young  lady,  you  really 
must  not  stand  about  in  the  cold ;  you  are 
looking  quite  chilled.  Take  an  old  man's 
advice,  walk  home  as  fast  as  you  can,  and 
have  a  good  cup  of  chocolate  or  cocoa  as  soon 
as  you  get  to  the  Castle." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Sydney,  and  the  three 
men  took  the  small  tan-gloved  hand  again, 
and  passed  on  to  their  work. 

And  Sydney  passed  on  also,  thinking  with 
a  strange,  sore  feeling  in  her  heart,  that  Hugh 
had  changed  a  good  deal.  He  had  not  even 
seemed  pleased  to  see  her  :  Hugh — who  had 
been  her  special  friend  from  babyhood  ! 

Had  there  ever  been  a  time  when  Hugh 
had  not  wanted  her  before  ?  She  could  not 
recollect  it,  if  there  were.  How  many  times 
had  she  not  sat  beside  a  big,  long-limbed 
school-boy,  doing  his  preparation  at  the  school- 
room table,  with  its  much- kicked  legs  and 
much-inked  table  cover,  and  been  proud  to 
think  she  was  "  helping  Hugh "  when  she 
blotted  his  exercises,  or  held  the  book,  while 
he  reeled  off  pages  in  some  tongue  unknown 
to  her ! 

Had  he  ever  failed  to  seem  pleased  when 
she  offered  her  assistance,  even  when  he  was 
working  with  a  pucker  on  his  forehead,  and 


230  SYDNEY    LISLE 

ten  fingers  running  through  his  hair?  He 
had  always  seemed  to  want  the  little  Sydney 
in  an  inky  pinafore,  however  busy  he  might 
be  ;  but  now  he  had  changed. 

"He  did  not  think  he  should  see  her 
again — he  would  be  very  busy."  Could  the 
Hugh  of  old  days  have  spoken  to  her  in  that 
cool,  indifferent  tone  ?  Sydney  felt  sure  that 
he  could  not.  For  the  first  time  the  girl 
found  the  homeward  walk  too  far  for  her 
active  feet.  The  distance  seemed  unending 
through  the  Park. 

Pauly  was  very  ill,  very  likely  going  to 
die,  and  Hugh — Hugh  did  not  care  to  see 
her  any  more. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

FEVER-STRICKEN 

"  COUSIN  ST.  QUENTIN,"  Sydney  said,  coming 
straight  into  the  library,  "  I  want  to  tell  you 
that  I  saw  and  spoke  to  Hugh  to-day.  You 
must  forgive  me,  please,  this  time — I  won't 
again." 

Her  cousin  looked  at  her  with  a  curious 
expression  in  his  eyes  :  at  another  time  she 
would  have  been  surprised  to  see  no  anger  there 
at  her  confession,  but  now  she  did  not  seem 
to  be  surprised  at  anything.  Pauly  was  very 
ill — perhaps  going  to  die — and  Hugh  had  not 
cared  to  see  her.  Nothing  else  seemed  to 
matter  very  much. 

"  Are  you  ill,  Sydney  ?  "  Her  cousin  spoke 
to  her  twice  before  she  heard  him. 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  head.  "  I  don't 
know  ;  my  head  aches  rather." 

"  Go  and  lie  down,"  said  St.  Quentin. 
"  You've  been  worrying  about  that  poor  little 

331  15 


232  SYDNEY    LISLE 

chap  at  the  Vicarage.     Lie  down  till  luncheon  ; 
then  you  will  feel  better." 

She  felt  dimly  that  his  tone  was  kind  in 
spite  of  her  disobedience  with  regard  to  Hugh. 
With  a  sudden  impulse  she  knelt  down  beside 
his  couch  and  laid  her  head  upon  his  hand. 
"  I  shall  not  disobey  you  again,"  she  said,  "  for 
Hugh — Hugh  doesn't  care,  I  think,  to  see 
me  now." 

She  was  on  her  feet  again,  and  had  left  the 
room  before  he  had  time  to  answer  her. 

St.  Quentin  gazed  after  her  with  a  softened 
look  in  his  tired  grey  eyes.  "  Poor  little 
soul !  "  he  muttered. 

Dr.  Lorry  looked  in  at  the  Castle  as  Lady 
Frederica  and  Miss  Osric  were  sitting  down 
to  luncheon.  Sydney  had  fallen  asleep  on  the 
sofa  in  the  morning-room,  and  Miss  Osric 
would  not  rouse  her.  The  old  doctor  refused 
luncheon  and  went  to  the  library  at  once.  His 
face  was  very  grave. 

"Is  the  little  chap  at  the  Vicarage  any 
worse  ?"  St.  Quentin  asked  him  sharply. 

"  Very  little  change  since  yesterday,"  the 
old  doctor  said.  "  I  have  great  hopes  from 
young  Chichester,  and  fresh  treatment.  .  . 
These  young  men,  you  know,  are  up  in  all 
the  latest  developments  of  science." 


FEVER-STRICKEN  233 

"  What  does  he  think  of  the  fever  ?  * 

"  Badly,  I'm  afraid.  Now  the  school  is 
closed  he  wants  it  turned  into  a  hospital,  and 
to  borrow  nurses  from  Donisbro',  to  work  with 
the  more  effective  women  here.  He  thinks 
the  patients  will  have  very  little  chance  of 
recovery  in  their  own  cottages." 

The  marquess  winced,  then  reached  his  desk 
and  pen.  "  How  much  money  will  you  want 
to  start  with?"  he  said.  "I  am,  of  course, 
accountable  for  all  this.  Save  what  lives  you 
can,  and  never  mind  my  pocket." 

There  was  no  time  for  mincing  matters. 
The  doctor  told  him  what  would  be  required, 
and  St.  Quentin  drew  a  cheque  for  the  amount 
and  signed  it. 

"  Let  me  know  when  more  is  wanted,"  he 
said.  "  And  now  will  you  go  upstairs  and  look 
at  Sydney.  I  think  she  needs  change.  If  you 
agree,  Lady  Frederica  shall  take  her  off  to 
the  South  of  France  somewhere  to  set  her  up 
after  all  this." 

Dr.  Lorry  made  no  comment  upon  this 
suggestion,  but  went  quietly  upstairs  to  Sydney. 
She  was  awake  now,  looking  rather  better 
for  her  sleep  and  eating  a  basin  of  soup,  which 
Miss  Osric  had  brought  her. 

Dr.  Lorry  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  sofa, 


234  SYDNEY    LISLE 

elt  her  pulse,  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  asked 
if  she  would  like  to  go  to  bed. 

"  I  think  you  would  be  more  comfortable 
there,"  he  said,  and  Sydney  did  not  contradict 
him. 

"  Well  ? "  asked  St.  Quentin  anxiously,  as 
Dr.  Lorry  re-entered  the  brown  library  a  few 
minutes  later.  "  How  about  the  South  ot 
France — or  do  you  think  sea  air  would  be 
better  for  her?" 

"  I  shouldn't  recommend  you  to  consider 
the  idea  ot  change  quite  at  once,"  the  old 
doctor  observed  cautiously.  "  You  see,  Miss 
Lisle  has  been  a  good  deal  about  among  the 
cottages,  and " 

"  All  the  more  reason  for  her  needing 
change ! " 

"  Yes — yes  ;  but  that  cottage  where  she  held 
her  meeting  for  the  women  was,  I  regret  to 
say,  in  a  most  unhealthy  condition,  owing  to 
defective  drains,  and " 

"  I  know  ;  it  was  one  I  had  marked  to  be 
pulled  down  ! " 

"  Miss  Lisle  was  in  it  for  two  hours  twice 
a  week,  and  oftener  when  that  poor  woman 
first  fell  ill,"  the  doctor  persisted,  as  though 
his  keen  old  eyes  failed  to  see  that  the  subject 
of  the  neglected  cottages  was  a  very  sore 


FEVER-STRICKEN  2$  5 

one  to  their  owner.  He  hated  himself,  as 
he  saw  how  the  thin  face  flushed  beneath 
his  words,  but  something  had  to  be  said,  and 
he  said  it. 

"  So  I  should  not  recommend  your  worrying 
over  sending  Miss  Lisle  away  from  home  at 
present." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  St.  Quentin  had 
turned  upon  him  like  a  flash  and  caught  his 
hand  as  in  a  vice.  "  What  is  it  ?  Don't  say 
the  child  is  ill !  Good  heavens !  not  the 
fever!" 

"  Remember,  she  will  have  every  possible 
advantage,"  the  old  doctor  faltered,  "  every 
chance  that  anybody  could  have  of  complete 
recovery.  There  is  no  need  to  be  at  all 
despondent,  but  I  fear — don't  agitate  yourself — 
I  fear  we  must  not  deceive  ourselves  into  the 
belief  that  she  is  going  to  escape  the  fever." 
***** 

Ten  long  days  had  gone  by — the  longest, 
Mr.  Fenton  thought,  that  he  had  ever  known. 

He  had  come  straight  down  to  the  Castle 
on  hearing  of  Sydney's  illness,  to  do  what 
he  could  for  Lord  St.  Quentin,  under  this 
fresh  calamity  which  had  fallen  on  what  really 
seemed  a  doomed  house. 

He   sat   with   the   marquess   in  the  library, 


236  SYDNEY   LISLE 

except  when,  morning  and  evening,  he  walked 
down  to  the  improvised  hospital  to  get  the 
latest  news  of  the  battle  raging  there. 

Sometimes  it  was  Dr.  Lorry,  with  the 
trimness  gone  from  his  person  and  his  eyes 
a  little  bloodshot,  who  would  come  out  and 
report  to  the  lawyer  waiting  there  in  the 
deserted  play -ground.  Sometimes  Hugh's  tall 
form  and  young  haggard  face  would  emerge 
from  the  school-door;  or  sometimes  Miss 
Morrell,  who  had  come  from  Donisbro'  when 
the  doctors  were  at  their  wits'  end  to  find 
sufficient  and  efficient  nurses,  and  had  stayed 
ever  since,  toiling  with  the  rest  to  save  the 
many  sick. 

Or  sometimes  it  was  the  Vicar,  striding 
between  the  Vicarage  and  the  hospital,  who 
would  stay  to  deliver  his  report  upon  the 
fight  which  he  was  sharing  with  the  doctors 
and  the  nurses. 

And  Mr.  Fenton  would  go  back  to  Lord 
St.  Quentin,  lying  staring  dumbly  at  the  fire, 
and  thinking — thinking  of  that  Christmas  Day, 
when  the  girl  who  lay  upstairs  in  the  grip 
of  fever  had  asked  him  if  he  could  do  nothing 
for  the  cottages.  If  he  had  only  done  it  then, 
when  she  had  asked  him,  what  anxiety  and 
distress  would  have  been  obviated ! 


FEVER-STRICKEN  237 

"  They  are  saving  so  many,"  Mr.  Fenton 
would  say,  "  and  that  young  Chichester  is  in- 
valuable. Dr.  Lorry  cannot  say  enough  for 
him.  They  are  saving  so  many,  that  one 
cannot  help  feeling  very  hopeful  for  Miss 
Lisle." 

"  I  have  no  hope,"  said  St.  Quentin. 

A  specialist  from  London  had  come  to 
see  the  girl  on  whom  so  many  hopes  were 
centred. 

"  She  is  very  seriously  ill,"  had  been  his 
verdict — that  verdict  which  seemed  so  terribly 
unsatisfying.  "  A  great  deal  depends  upon 
the  nursing.  There  is  no  need  to  give  up 
hope." 

Then  he  had  gone  away,  leaving  those  who 
loved  the  girl  to  make  what  they  could  out 
of  those  brief  sentences. 

"  She  is  very  seriously  ill." 

"  A  great  deal  depends  upon  the  nursing." 

"  There  is  no  need  to  give  up  hope." 

"  She  would  have  made  a  better  job  of 
the  landlord  business  than  I've  done ! "  St. 
Quentin  said  to  Mr.  Fenton,  again  and  again. 
"  She  cared  for  the  people,  and  when  I 
wouldn't  do  my  duty,  tried  to  do  it  for  me ! " 

"  They  are  quite  devoted  to  her  in  Lisle- 
hurst,  and,  indeed,  at  Loam  and  Styles  as  well," 


238  SYDNEY    LISLE 

said  Mr.  Fenton.  u  It  is  most  touching  to 
see  the  way  men  and  women  come  rushing 
from  their  cottages  as  I  pass,  to  ask  for  the 
latest  news  of  her.  She  has  won  their 
hearts  in  the  short  time  she  has  been  among 
them." 

"  She  cared  for  them,  and  that  accounts  for 
it,"  said  St.  Quentin.  "  She  even  cared  for 
me,  though,  God  knows !  I  gave  her  small 
cause  to  do  so.  I  took  her  from  the  people 
whom  she  loved,  and  cut  her  off  as  far  as 
possible  from  intercourse  with  them.  I  made 
her  unhappy  for  my  own  selfish  ends,  and 
now  I'm  going  to  lose  her ! " 

"  Please  God,  no,"  said  Mr.  Fenton,  but 
his  voice  was  not  quite  steady. 

"  I  would  give  anything  to  think  I  made 

her  happy "  poor  St.  Quentin  was  going 

on,  when  he  was  checked  by  the  entrance 
of  a  footman. 

"  Mr.  Chichester  to  see  Mr.  Fenton,  my 
lord." 

"  Show  him  in  here." 

Mr.  Fenton  rose.  "  Hadn't  I  better  go 
to  him  ?  " 

*'  Show  him  in  here." 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

The   footman   withdrew,   and    in   a   minute 


FEVER-STRICKEN  239 

Hugh  came  into  the  library.  He  was  very 
white  as  he  went  forward  to  the  man  who  had 
taken  Sydney  from  them.  Neither  attempted 
any  conventional  greeting,  and  Mr.  Fenton's 
murmured  introduction  was  unheard  by  both. 

"  So  you  are  Hugh  Chicester  ?  "  St.  Ouentin 
said.  "Tell  me — if  I  wire  to  your  father  and 
mother  to  come  down  to  Sydney,  will  they 
come  ?  " 

"  Is  she  worse  ?  "     Hugh's  voice  was  metallic 

o 

in  the  effort  that  he  made  to  keep  it  steady. 

"  No ! "  St.  Quentin  spoke  so  loudly  as 
to  make  the  lawyer  jump.  "  Tell  me,  would 
they  come  ?  " 

Hugh  laughed  unsteadily.  The  question 
seemed  to  him  almost  a  mockery.  "  They'd 
come  to  her  from  the  world's  end,"  he  said. 

St.  Quentin  filled  hastily  a  telegraph  form 
with  the  words  : 

"  Forgive  me,  and  come  to  Sydney. 

"  ST.  QUENTIN." 

This  he  directed  to  "  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Chi- 
chester  "  in  full. 

"  Send  it  off  as  you  pass  the  post  office," 
he  said  to  Hugh,  who  took  the  form  and 
went  out  silently. 

*  *  »  »  * 


240  SYDNEY    LISLE 

It  was  the  night  after  the  arrival  of  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Chichester. 

All  was  very  quiet  in  the  nursery  at  the 
Vicarage.  At  the  foot  of  the  little  iron  cot 
knelt  the  Vicar,  his  face  hidden  in  his  hands. 
Hugh  was  bending  over  it,  his  arm  under 
Pauly's  head,  his  eyes  intently  watching  the 
worn  baby  face. 

Dr.  Lorry  had  been  sent  for  to  the  Castle. 
Short  as  Sydney's  illness  had  been  in  comparison 
with  little  Pauly's,  its  crisis  had  come  to-night, 
and  they  knew  that  before  the  wet  February 
dawn  crept  up  into  the  sky  they  would  see 
whether  life  or  death  were  to  be  the  girl's 
portion. 

"  Put  a  light  in  the  passage  window  next 
her  room,  if — when — she  turns  the  corner," 
Hugh  had  said  to  Dr.  Lorry,  when  the  old 
man  was  summoned  to  the  Castle  that  evening. 
"  I  must  stay  with  Pauly  to-night,  but — put 
a  light  in  the  window !  I  can  see  it  from 
the  Vicarage ! " 

"  I  will,  my  boy,"  the  old  doctor  said,  and 
went  up  to  the  Castle,  thinking  deeply. 

"  One "  boomed  out  from  the  clock  upon 
the  church  tower,  and  Pauly  stirred  and  moaned. 
His  father  was  on  his  feet  in  a  second,  but 
Hugh  signed  for  silence  and  put  something 


FEVER-STRICKEN  241 

in  a  spoon  between  the  child's  lips.  Pauly 
cuddled  himself  close  into  the  circle  of  the 
young  man's  arm,  and  closed  his  eyes. 

"  Is  he  going?"  whispered  the  poor  father 
hoarsely. 

41  Hush  ! "  Hugh  said,  and  there  was  silence 
again. 

An  hour  went  slowly  by.  Hugh  was  sitting 
now  upon  a  high  nursery  chair  beside  the 
little  cot,  but  sideways,  that  he  might  not  move 
the  arm  on  which  the  child  was  resting.  Two 
struck,  and  the  Vicar,  with  a  long  look  at  the 
little  wasted  face,  rose  from  his  knees  and 
stole  out  to  the  hospital. 

Three  struck,  and  four :  the  Vicar  had 
returned,  with  a  whispered,  word  to  Hugh 
that  all  was  well  at  the  hospital  and  in  the 
village,  and  Dr.  Mitchell,  who  had  come  to 
their  help,  satisfied.  Outside  it  was  very 
dark.  Mr.  Seaton  rose  and  looked  long  and 
earnestly  from  the  window. 

"Is  there  a  light  in  the  passage  next  her 
room  ? "  Hugh's  voice  was  hardly  more  than 
a  thread  of  sound. 

The  Vicar  came  across  and  laid  a  hand  upon 
the  young  man's  shoulder. 

"  No." 

The  nursery  clock,  ticking  on  evenly,  sounded 


242  SYDNEY    LISLE 

very  loud  in  the  stillness.  The  nurse  stole 
into  the  room  to  peer  round  the  shaded  lamp 
at  the  little  patient,  and  then  go  away  again. 

Five  struck,  and  with  it  came  the  first 
faint  sleepy  twitter  of  a  half-awakened  bird. 

Pauly  stirred  :  the  Vicar  raised  his  head  : 
the  child  looked  at  his  father  for  a  moment 
with  a  half-puzzled  smile  of  recognition ;  then, 
with  a  little  drowsy  sound  of  contentment, 
dropped  back  upon  the  pillows,  peacefully 
asleep. 

Hugh  rose  from  his  cramped  posture  and 
rubbed  his  stiffened  arm.  "  Thank  God  !  "  he 
said.  Mr.  Seaton's  hand  closed  over  his  in  a 
way  that  was  more  expressive  than  any  words 
had  power  to  be.  "  The  little  chap  will  do 
now,"  the  young  doctor  told  the  father  gently, 
and  left  him  with  his  child. 

He  went  down  the  stairs  like  a  man  in  a 
dream,  looked  into  the  hospital,  and  then 
directed  his  steps  straight  towards  the  Castle. 
The  whole  world  seemed  unreal  to  him  to- 
night ;  he  was  unconscious  that  he  had  not 
slept  or  eaten  for  hours.  All  his  powers  seemed 
centred  on  one  thought :  Was  there  a  light  in 
that  passage  window  ? 

The  lodge  gates  had  been  left  open  for 
the  convenience  of  the  doctors,  and  Hugh 


FEVER-STRICKEN  243 

made  his  way  unopposed  through  the  Park, 
where  Sydney  had  gone  that  first  morning. 

As  he  drew  near  the  Castle  he  saw  that 
he  was  not  the  only  watcher.  Half  a  dozen 
figures  were  grouped  near  the  marble  steps, 
waiting,  for  the  most  part,  silently.  As  he 
joined  them  Hugh  saw  that  one  was  old 
Banks  the  groom,  and  the  rest  men  from  the 
village.  No  one  made  any  comment  when 
the  young  doctor  stood  among  them.  A 
common  trouble  makes  the  roughest  quick  of 
understanding. 

Old  Banks  was  speaking  as  Hugh  came  up 
to  the  little  group. 

"  She  were  a  rare  one  for  the  riding,"  he 
said  in  alow  husky  voice.  "Bless  you!  I've 
put  a  many  up,  but  never  one  as  took  to  it 
better  than  she  did.  And  his  lordship  were 
fine  and  pleased,  he  were,  for  I  saw  the  look 
in  his  eyes  as  we  went  past  they  windows  of 
the  library. 

"  '  Please  tell  me  anything  I  don't  do  right, 
Banks,' "  she  says,  as  pretty  as  can  be,  '  for 
I  want  to  ride  well  and  please  my  cousin.' " 

Hugh  went  and  stood  close  beside  the  old 
man,  and  silence  fell  again  upon  the  little 
group  of  watchers. 

"It   were   her  as  were  all  for   the  building 


§44  SYDNEY   LISLE 

of  they  new  cottages  on  the  hill,"  Sawyer  said 
presently.  "  Mr.  Fane,  he  told  me  so  himself. 
His  lordship  wrote  to  him  as  it  were  '  by  the 
wish  of  his  heir,  Miss  Lisle.' ' 

There  was  another  pause,  and  in  the  silence 
they  heard  the  distant  clock  upon  the  church 
strike  six,  followed  immediately  by  the  deep 
booming  notes  of  the  Castle  clock  above  the 
stables. 

Hugh  involuntarily  turned  his  head  to  hear 
from  what  the  deep  solemn  sounds  proceeded. 
As  he  turned  old  Banks  caught  his  arm  in  a 
convulsive  grip — "  Look,  sir  ! " 

A  hand  had  come  to  the  window  in  the 
passage,  dark  and  shrouded  till  that  moment, 
and  had  left  a  light  there. 

A  minute  later,  and  the  young  doctor,  of 
whose  courage  Dr.  Lorry  could  not  say  enough, 
was  hurrying  back  towards  the  village,  crying 
like  a  child. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

GIVEN    BACK 

SYDNEY  seemed  to  herself  to  have  a  good 
many  odd  dreams  during  that  time  of  illness. 

Strange  faces  looked  out  of  a  great  darkness, 
and  pictures  came  and  went  like  magic-lantern 
slides.  But  one  thing  always  stayed,  and  that 
was  fever. 

Then  there  came  a  time  when  she  seemed 
to  herself  to  be  all  alone  in  a  dark  place  where 
no  one  came  to  her,  though  she  cried  con- 
tinually for  mother,  and  was  certain  that  if 
only  this  weight  would  leave  her  head,  she 
could  lift  it  and  call  loud  enough  for  mother 
to  hear  her ! 

And  then,  quite  suddenly,  there  was  shaded 
lamp-light  in  the  rose  bedroom,  and  mother 
was  sitting  there  beside  her  bed. 

She  tried  to  speak,  but  found  the  words 
did  not  come ;  nor  did  a  hand,  that  seemed 
lying  loosely  on  the  counterpane  belonging 

Ml 


246  SYDNEY    LISLE 

to  nobody,  move  from  its  place,  but  mother 
took  it  in  hers  and  kissed  it.  Sydney  had 
a  vague  kind  of  feeling  that  everything  was 
right  now  mother  had  come. 

Then  there  was  a  time  when  things  grew 
clearer ;  when  she  knew  that  there  was  some- 
times daylight  on  the  wall  and  sometimes  lamp- 
light, and  then  father  was  beside  her,  looking 
at  her  through  the  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses  she 
knew  so  well.  And  presently  Mr.  Seaton  was 
kneeling  by  her  bed,  saying  words  which  she 
was  dimly  conscious  he  had  said  before.  Then 
suddenly  everything  was  quite  clear,  and  a 
mild  spring-like  air  was  coming  in  through 
the  open  window,  and  she  felt  as  if  all  the 
dreams  had  passed  away  in  that  long  night 
of  fever. 

"  I  always  said  she  would  turn  the  corner 
when  Mrs.  Chichester  came ! "  Dr.  Lorry 
declared,  rubbing  his  hands  gleefully ;  and 
though  of  course  all  credit  should  be  given 
to  the  doctors  and  the  nurses,  I  think  Mrs. 
Chichester 's  presence  and  her  strong  mother- 
love  had  no  small  amount  to  do  with  calling 
back  the  girl,  whose  feet  had  gone  so  very 
near  the  margin  of  that  river  we  call  death. 

Dr.  Chichester  himself  brought  the  news 
that  Sydney  had  turned  the  sharp  corner  and 


GIVEN    BACK  247 

come  back  to  those  who  loved  her,  to  the 
kinsman  keeping  his  watch  on  the  sofa  in  the 
library,  and  I  think  any  feelings  of  antagonism 
towards  the  Chichesters  that  St.  Quentin  may 
have  had  left,  were  quite  swept  away  by  the 
look  on  the  doctor's  face  and  the  choke  in  his 
voice  as  he  said,  "  She  has  turned  the  corner 
now — thank  God  for  it !  " 

The  marquess  even  went  so  far  as  to 
remember  Hugh  and  his  feelings  and,  un- 
conscious of  that  watch  the  young  man  had 
kept  outside  the  Castle,  desired  that  a  servant 
should  instantly  go  down  with  a  message  to 
the  improvised  hospital. 

It  was  the  next  morning — a  strange,  dis- 
organised morning — when  everybody  seemed 
to  be  united  in  the  one  absorbing  gladness, 
that  St.  Quentin  asked  to  see  the  Vicar  when 
he  came  down  from  his  visit  to  Sydney. 

Mr.  Seaton  wondered  at  the  summons,  but 
rejoiced  over  it  with  all  his  heart.  It  had  been 
one  of  his  great  griefs  that  he  was  allowed 
to  give  no  help  or  comfort  to  this  man  who 
stood  so  plainly  in  need  of  both. 

"  So  you've  pulled  your  boy  round  ?  "  was 
St.  Quentin's  greeting,  as  the  Vicar  came  into 
the  library.  "  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am 
of  that — the  jolly  little  chap!  That  will  be 

16 


248  SYDNEY    LISLE 

something  to  tell  Sydney  when  she's  strong 
enough  to  hear  news.  .  .  .  That  isn't  what 
I  want  to  say,  though."  He  stopped  ;  then 
brought  the  last  words  out  with  a  rush  :  "  Isn't 
there  something  you  pray  in  churches  when 
you've  something — very  special — to  be  thank- 
ful for  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Vicar,  sympathising  with  the 
effort  in  his  tone — "  there  is  a  prayer  of 
thanksgiving  for  '  great  mercies  vouchsafed ' 
—that  is  what  you  mean,  I  think  ?  " 

St.  Quentin  nodded.  "  I  didn't  exactly 
deserve  mercy,"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  thankful 
for  it !  She'll  be  a  credit  to  the  name,  you 
know.  .  .  .  Say  the  prayer  for  me,  will  you, 
now  ?  I  can't  go  to  church,  you  see  ! " 

And  the  Vicar,  kneeling,  thanked  God  for 
more  than  His  gift  of  life  to  the  girl  upstairs  ! 

"  Come  and  look  me  up  again  when  you've 
time,  will  you  ? "  said  the  marquess,  when  Mr. 
Seaton  took  his  leave ;  and  the  Vicar  said, 
"  I  will,"  with  all  his  heart. 

Sydney  was  very  happy  in  her  dainty  rose- 
room,  with  mother  sitting  by  her  bedside, 
holding  her  hand :  she  was  very  happy  when 
carried  to  the  sofa  in  the  morning-room,  where 
mother  read  to  her,  or  talked  and  worked. 
"  But  I  want  to  go  downstairs  and  see  St. 


GIVEN    BACK  249 

Quentin,"  she  said,  and  Dr.  Lorry  was  pre- 
vailed upon  to  sanction  the  proceeding  as  soon 
as  it  was  at  all  safe. 

Grand  preparations  were  made  downstairs 
for  the  great  event.  Dickson  worried  St. 
Quentin  to  the  verge  of  distraction  with  his 
repeated  tidyings  of  the  library,  and  would 
have  worried  him  into  a  very  bad  temper 
if  the  preparations  had  been  made  on  behalf  of 
anyone  but  Sydney. 

A  deputation  arrived  from  the  convalescent 
village  to  know  if  anyone  would  be  allowed 
to  see  "  our  young  lady,"  and  though  Dr. 
Lorry  was  obliged  to  decline  such  attentions 
for  his  patient  on  her  first  appearance,  the 
deputation  was  dismissed  with  the  assurance 
that  Miss  Lisle  would  soon  be  out  and  among 
them  once  more. 

Dr.  Chichester  came  down  again  for  twenty- 
four  hours  to  see  how  "his  little  girl" 
bore  the  move,  and  Sydney  had  another 
visitor. 

"  I  suppose  she  won't  be  happy  without  the 
paragon ! "  St.  Quentin  said  to  Dr.  Lorry, 
"  so  you'd  better  bring  him  up  with  you  to  tea. 
But  mind,  he's  not  to  be  up  to  any  of  his  fool's 
tricks  with  her — talking  as  though  they  were 
mere  acquaintances,  as  he  did  when  last  they 


250  SYDNEY    LISLE 

met.     Tell  him  to  be  natural  and  brotherly,  of 
else  to  stop  away  !  " 

But  Hugh  came.  Perhaps  his  manner  was 
not  quite  brotherly  as  he  came  forward  to 
arrange  the  sofa  for  the  slight  girl  whom 
his  father  carried  in  so  easily,  but  Sydney 
did  not  seem  to  find  anything  amiss 
with  it. 

She  lay  smiling  blissfully  upon  them  all — 
father — mother — Hugh — St.  Quentin.  "  Oh, 
Cousin  St.  Quentin,  if  only  you  could  get  well 
I  should  be  quite  happy  !  "  she  said. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

WHAT    HUGH    TOLD 

"  MR.  CHICHESTER  to  see  you,  my  lord." 

St.  Quentin  and  Sydney  looked  up ;  the 
latter  with  a  quick  flush,  which  made  her 
prettier  than  ever,  her  cousin  thought. 

She  was  reading  the  paper  to  him,  with  a 
praiseworthy  effort,  hitherto  not  crowned  with 
much  success,  to  feel  a  keen  interest  in  the 
"  Imperial  Parliament." 

"Oh — Hugh/'  St.  Quentin  said,  with  a 
glance  at  Sydney.  "  I  suppose  he  has  run 
down  to  see  Lorry.  Ask  him  to  come  in, 
John." 

Hugh  was  looking  rather  excited,  and  his 
voice  could  not  repress  a  certain  eagerness, 
as  he  took  the  hand  the  marquess  held  out. 
St.  Quentin  could  not  help  liking  the  look 
of  the  clean-cut,  honest  young  face,  with 
straightforwardness  and  self-control  in  every 
line  of  it. 

"  It's  a  frightful  pity  he  hasn't  ten  thousand 

3*1 


252  SYDNEY    LISLE 

a  year,"  the  marquess  thought  to  himself, 
watching  the  way  Sydney's  eyes  shone  as 
she  greeted  the  young  man.  "If  he  had 
anything  respectable  in  the  way  of  an  income, 
he  should  have  the  child,  upon  my  word  he 
should  !  But  a  young  doctor  with  no  special 
prospects !  "  and  he  shook  his  head. 

"  You  wanted  me,  eh  ?  Hope  you  left 
the  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Chichester  quite  well  ? 
Sydney,  hadn't  you  better  get  your  ride 
while  the  sun's  out  ?  It's  a  first-class  morn- 
ing, and  you'll  see  Mr.  Chichester  at  lunch, 
you  know,  and  get  all  your  town  news 
then." 

Hugh's  eyes  followed  the  graceful  figure 
from  the  room.  He  had  not  seen  her  before 
in  long  dresses  and  with  the  hair  coiled  round 
the  shapely  head.  Though  the  presentation 
had  not  taken  place,  partly  owing  to  the  illness, 
and  later  to  Sydney's  obstinate  refusal  to 
leave  the  cousin  to  whom  she  was  becoming 
daily  more  necessary,  even  Lady  Frederica 
had  seen  the  impossibility  of  keeping  the  child- 
Sydney  any  longer. 

They  had  grown  used  to  the  change  at 
the  Castle,  but  Hugh  saw  her  for  the  first 
time  with  the  unspeakable  charm  of  sweet 
young  womanhood  upon  her. 


WHAT    HUGH    TOLD  253 

St.  Quentin  noted  the  direction  of  his  eyes 
and  spoke. 

"I'm  sorry  for  you,  Hugh ;  indeed  I  am. 
If  things  were  different " 

"Oh,  I  know!"  poor  Hugh  burst  out. 
*4  You  needn't  be  afraid,  Lord  St.  Quentin. 
I  know  I've  got  to  keep  out  of  her  way  all 
I  can.  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  my  forgetting 
that  I  never  can  be  anything  but  her  brother 
Hugh — some  one  to  stand  by  her  if  she  should 
need  any  one  to  do  it,  but  never  to  presume 
on  that ! " 

He  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood  staring 
out  at  the  fresh  green  of  the  Park  and  the 
spring  glory  of  the  garden,  all  ablaze  with 
crocuses,  in  lilac,  white,  and  gold. 

"  Well,"  St.  Quentin  said,  "  I  think  the 
child  would  have  been  a  good  deal  happier 
if  circumstances  hadn't  put  her  into  this  position. 
But  they  have,  and  she  will  make  a  first-rate 
Lady  St.  Quentin  one  of  these  days,  I  imagine, 
though  there's  no  doubt  she'll  spoil  the  tenants 
shamefully,  you  Chichesters  having  taught  her 
to  think  of  everyone  except  herself.  You  are 
an  unselfish  family,  and  you've  taught  her 
to  be  the  same.  I  wish — I  wish — you  wanted 
something  I  could  give  you." 

"  I  don't  want  anything  except  to  see  Sydney 


254  SYDNEY    LISLE 

happy,"  poor  Hugh  said,  and  then  he  came 
and  sat  down  by  his  host.  "  I'm  forgetting 
what  I  came  about,"  he  said.  "  Will  you 
forgive  me  for  touching  on  a  subject  which 
must  be  rather  painful  to  you  ?  " 

"The  new  cottages  are  all  right,  surely?" 
cried  St.  Quentin. 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  are  certain  to  be  all  right," 
Hugh  said ;  "  it  isn't  that.  There  was  a  man 
brought  into  the  Blue-friars  the  other  day, 
frightfully  hurt  internally,  and  we  thought  it 
was  all  up  with  him,  or  would  be  soon,  at 
least.  Well,  after  a  bit  I  was  with  him  alone, 
and  saw  he  was  in  great  distress  of  mind, 
to  add  to  his  other  troubles.  I  got  presently 
at  what  was  wrong.  He  gathered  that  we 
thought  him  in  a  very  bad  way,  and  had  it 
on  his  mind  that  he  had  once  wronged  a  man 
frightfully.  I  got  the  poor  chap  to  make  his 
confession  to  me,  and  took  it  down,  and  he 
signed  it.  His  name  is  Duncombe." 

The  colour  rushed  into  St.  Quentin's  pale 
face. 

"Go  on!"  he  said,  in  a  voice  of  strained 
calm. 

"  His  confession  was  this.  He  was  riding 
your  horse,  Mac  Ivor,  in  a  race  against  a  certain 
Sir  Algernon  Bridge  and  another  man — I  for- 


WHAT    HUGH    TOLD  255 

get  his  name — it  didn't  signify.  Duncombe 
was  in  trouble  of  some  kind  and  wanted  money 
over  and  above  the  pay  you  promised  him  for 
riding.  A  letter  from  you,  written  just  before 
the  race,  promised  him  an  extra  fifty  if  he  won 
it.  He  went  and  injured  in  some  way  Sir 
Algernon's  horse,  Doll,  the  night  before,  but 
being  in  a  funk  he  overdid  the  business,  and 
the  horse  bowled  over  sooner  than  he  meant 
it  to.  There  were  enquiries,  and  Sir  Algernon's 
jockey  accused  Duncombe.  In  his  fright  he 
declared — forgive  me,  please — that  he  acted  by 
your  orders,  producing  the  letter  you  had 
written  him  to  prove  his  words.  He  was 
awfully  ashamed  of  that  part  of  the  business, 
for  of  course  he  knew  all  along  you  only  meant 
fair  play.  But  he  said  he  had  an  old  mother 
who  depended  on  him,  and  it  wouldn't  mean 
prison  for  a  gentleman.  I  don't  believe  he 
understood  it  meant  something  infinitely  worse. 
Sir  Algernon  Bridge  took  the  letter  from  him 
and  bribed  him  to  say  nothing  more  about  it. 
He  was  only  too  glad  to  hold  his  tongue  at 
first,  for  Sir  Algernon  assured  him  that  he 
was  your  friend,  and  intended  to  suppress  the 
letter  for  your  sake,  but  later  on  he  seems  to 
have  had  qualms  at  having  acted  unfairly  by 
you.  He  said  he  never  meant  to  do  you  a 


256  SYDNEY    LISLE 

wrong,  for  you  had  been  extremely  kind  to 
him.  He  seems  to  have  guessed  later  that 
Sir  Algernon  meant  no  good  to  you  ;  for  his 
old  mother  lives  at  Loam,  and  comes  to 
Sydney's  work-parties.  They  kept  him  up 
to  some  knowledge  of  your  doings.  ...  He 
asked  me  to  give  you  his  confession,  and 
begged  that  you  would  make  what  use  of  it 
you  liked,  and  not  consider  him." 

St.  Quentin  took  the  paper  from  Hugh's 
hand  and  read  it  slowly.  What  would  he  not 
have  given  for  it  long  ago  ?  Now  he  was 
dying,  and  nothing  seemed  to  matter  very 
much. 

"May  I  tell  the  poor  chap  you  forgive 
him?"  Hugh  said. 

"Is  he  still  alive?"  asked  St.  Quentin  in 
surprise. 

"  Yes,  and  will  live,  I  think.  It's  a  most 
extraordinary  case ;  quite  unique  in  the  annals 
of  the  hospital,  and  we  are  awfully  proud  of 
the  operation  which  has  saved  him.  His 
injury  had  till  now  been  considered  hopeless, 
but  Sir  Anthony  is  a  genius,  and  he's  pulled 
him  through,  we  hope.  I  am  going  down  the 
village  to  tell  Lorry  of  the  case,  if  you  don't 
want  me  any  longer.  He  is  so  interested  in 
all  fresh  developments  of  science." 


WHAT    HUGH    TOLD  257 

He  rose. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  St.  Quentin  said. 
"Come  back  to  luncheon,  and  tell  that  poor 
fellow,  when  you  see  him  next,  that  it's — 
all  right." 

Hugh  went  through  the  Park  and  down  the 
village,  where  cottages  of  a  greatly  improved 
kind  were  rising  rapidly  in  place  of  the  old 
ones.  The  thinning  trees  of  the  Park  told 
at  what  cost  this  long-neglected  duty  was 
performed. 

He  soon  reached  the  charming,  roomy  red- 
brick Queen  Anne  house  where  Dr.  Lorry 
lived,  and  was  receiving  the  heartiest  of 
welcomes  from  his  old  friend  in  the  quaint, 
dark,  comfortable  dining-room. 

"  My  dear  boy,  this  is  capital ! — capital,  I 
say !  I  am  quite  delighted.  You  must  put 
in  a  few  days  with  me  now  you're  here,  for 
all  your  patients  will  be  clamouring  to  see  you. 
I  get  nothing  but  enquiries  after  '  Dr.  Hugh.' 
You've  quite  taken  the  wind  out  of  my  sails 
here,  I  can  tell  you,  and  that  little  rascal 
Pauly — '  I  want  Dr.  Hugh,'  he  cries,  when- 
ever I  go  up  to  physic  him ! " 

"  I  see  you  are  still  a  famous  story-teller, 
sir,"  Hugh  said,  laughing. 

"  Ah !  in  my  anecdotage,"  chuckled  the  old 


258  SYDNEY    LISLE 

doctor.  "  A  friend  I  hadn't  seen  for  thirty 
years  came  home  the  other  day  from  Africa, 
and  looked  me  up.  « Why,  you  hardly  look 
a  day  older,  Lorry ! '  he  said,  '  and  I  quite 
expected  to  find  you  in  your  dotage! >! 

"  '  The  stage  before  it — anecdotage,  Tom  ! '  " 
I  said.  "I  thought  he  would  have  died!" 

"  A  good  many  stages  still  before  it,  /  take 
leave  to  think!"  Hugh  said. 

"  No,  no.  I'm  getting  old,  my  boy,  and 
thinking  of  retiring,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Little 
Pauly  isn't  far  wrong  when  he  cries  out  for 
a  younger  man  ! " 

"  I  hope  the  little  chap  is  all  right  again  ?  " 
asked  Hugh. 

"  I  should  just  about  think  so,  and  more 
rampagious  than  ever.  Father  can't  let  him 
out  of  his  sight,  you  know,  but  I  don't  think 
he  altogether  spoils  him.  Miss  Lisle  and  Miss 
Osric  do  that.  By  the  way,  though  it's  not 
announced  yet,  I  think  we  may  feel  pretty 
sure  the  Vicar  won't  let  Miss  Osric  leave 
Lislehurst  when  Miss  Lisle  dispenses  with  a 
governess." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  Hugh  said,  looking  pleased. 
"  I'm  very  glad.  Sydney  thinks  no  end  of 
Miss  Osric,  I  know,  and  the  Vicar  is  a  down- 
right brick.  And  Pauly  wants  a  mother." 


WHAT    HUGH    TOLD  259 

"  Yes,  he  won't  get  so  many  chances  of 
tumbling  off  church  towers  or  catching  fevers 
then,"  the  doctor  said.  "  It  will  be  a  fine 
thing  for  the  little  monkey  in  every  way. 
And  I  agree  with  you  about  Miss  Osric  :  she's 
a  very  nice  girl,  a  very  nice  girl  indeed.  But 
Master  Pauly  has  to  do  the  courting  for  his 
father  now,  for  the  Vicar  and  Lord  St.  Quentin 
have  struck  up  quite  a  friendship ;  that's  a 
new  departure,  isn't  it?  It's  very  good  for 
St.  Quentin !  Well,  and  what  news  have 
you  brought  me  down  from  town,  my  dear 
boy  ?  Anything  fresh  on  the  placards  this 
morning  ?  " 

"  Only  a  big  jewel  robbery,"  Hugh  said, 
laughing.  "  I  really  came  to  see  Lord  St. 
Quentin  on  a  bit  of  business  concerning  him 
that  I  chanced  to  come  across.  And,  while 
I  was  here,  I  thought  I  would  give  myself 
the  pleasure  of  looking  you  up,  and  telling 
you  of  our  last  triumph  at  the  Blue-friars. 
A  really  remarkable  case  :  I'm  sure  you  will 
be  interested." 

Hugh  was  right  in  his  conviction,  but  even 
he  had  not  expected  such  a  violent  interest 
as  his  old  friend  displayed. 

Dr.  Lorry  leaned  forward,  putting  quick, 
sharp  questions  as  to  the  exact  nature  of  the 


26O  SYDNEY    LISLE 

injury  which  had  been  operated  on  so  success- 
fully, and  finally,  as  Hugh  concluded,  seized 
the  young  man's  hand  and  nearly  wrung  it 
off  his  wrist. 

"  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !  "  he  cried.  "It 
has  saved  one  man  ;  it  can  save  another !  " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Hugh  cried.  The 
old  man's  intense  excitement  was  infectious. 

Dr.  Lorry  stood  up,  trembling  with  eager- 
ness. "  Lord  St.  Quentin's  injury  is  tlie  same 
as  that  which  you  have  been  describing"  he 
said.  "If  your  Sir  Anthony  has  saved  this 
Duncombe,  we  must  have  him  down  to  save 
St.  Quentin!" 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE   WAITING   OF   TWO 

A  WEEK  later,  and  Sydney  was  at  the  Deanery 
again. 

Hugh's  hero,  the  great  surgeon  who  gave 
his  services  to  the  Blue-friars  Hospital,  had 
come  down  to  see  St.  Ouentin,  and  perform  on 
him  the  operation  which  had  saved  the  life  of 
the  man  Duncombe. 

Under  these  circumstances  Lady  Frederica 
declined  absolutely  remaining  at  the  Castle. 

"  My  nerves  really  wouldn't  stand  it,"  she 
explained.  "  I  hate  anything  to  do  with  illness, 
but  hitherto  St.  Quentin's  has  been  kept  com- 
paratively in  the  background :  in  fact,  it  has 
been  possible  to  forget  it.  But  an  operation 
— with  doctors  and  nurses  hovering  round — 
and  bulletins  upon  the  door,  and  people  ex- 
pecting one  to  have  a  full,  true,  and  particular 
account  of  how  the  patient  is  at  one's  finger's 
ends  !  No,  thank  you.  I  shall  go  to  town, 
and  Sydney  shall  come  with  me." 

361 


262  SYDNEY    LISLE 

But  Sydney  rebelled,  and  appealed  against 
the  verdict  to  her  cousin. 

"  If  I  must  go  away,  let  me  go  to  the 
Deanery ! "  she  implored.  "  I  can't  go  with 
Lady  Frederica  !  I  must  go  to  somebody  who 
cares  too ! " 

A  flush  swept  over  St.  Quentin's  face. 

"Who  cares  too?"  he  muttered,  then  with 
an  effort  turned  to  her  and  spoke  aloud. 

"  Sydney,  I'll  tell  you  this.  If,  in  God's 
mercy,  I  get  through  the  operation,  I  am  going 
to  follow  your  advice,  and  tell  the  girl  I  love 
just  everything,  as  I  told  you." 

Sydney  got  her  way,  and  went  to  the  Deanery, 
accompanied  by  Miss  Osric,  leaving  Lady 
Frederica  to  go  off  to  town  alone. 

The  third  day  of  her  absence  from  the  Castle 
had  come — a  long  dreary  day,  which  seemed 
unending.  It  was  to  relieve  the  strain  of  that 
waiting  time  that  Katharine  suggested,  when 
the  shadows  were  falling  long  about  the  Close, 
that  they  should  go  across  to  Oliver's,  to 
choose  a  gold  chain  as  a  birthday  present  for 
the  little  cousin  Sylvia,  whose  birthday  was  to 
be  on  the  morrow. 

Action  of  any  kind  was  something  of  a 
comfort,  and  Sydney  came. 

A     shabbily-dressed    man     was    just    con- 


THE   WAITING   OF   TWO  263 

eluding  some  bargain  with  the  jeweller  as  the 
two  girls  came  into  the  shop — some  bargain 
with  which  he  seemed  very  much  dissatisfied. 
"  It's  worth  ever  so  much  more,  confound  you 
for  a  screw  ! "  they  heard  him  say.  "  Why, 
that's  two  quid  less  than  you  gave  the  parson 
for  it.  I  only  brought  it  here  because  I 
thought  you'd  give  a  better  price  for  your  own 
thing." 

Sydney  started  violently,  for  the  voice  was 
Sir  Algernon's,  and  on  the  counter  between 
him  and  Oliver  there  lay  her  little  watch. 

Katharine  had  recognised  him  also,  and  her 
eyes  flashed.  "  Come  away,  Sydney  dear," 
she  said. 

Low  as  she  spoke,  he  caught  the  words 
and  turned.  But  for  his  voice,  Sydney  hardly 
would  have  known  him. 

The  light  of  a  pale  spring  evening  fell 
upon  his  face  through  the  open  doorway  of 
the  jeweller's  shop,  and  showed  up  pitilessly 
the  wreck  he  had  made  of  it.  His  eyes  were 
bloodshot  and  furtive,  and  the  lines  had 
deepened  round  them,  while  his  hair  showed 
very  grey  above  the  ears.  He  looked  to-day 
far  older  than  his  forty-one  years  warranted. 

He  made  an  uncertain  movement  forward. 
Katharine  drew  away  :  "  Come,  Sydney ! " 

17 


264  SYDNEY    LISLE 

They  left  the  shop,  but,  once  outside,  the 
younger  girl  paused,  looking  back. 

Sir  Algernon  had  followed  them  into  the 
street,  and  was  gazing  after  them  as  though  he 
wished  to  speak.  Sydney  noted  the  shabbiness 
of  his  dress  and  the  fact  that  he  had  not  shaved 
that  morning. 

"  Katharine,"  she  said,  "  won't  you  hear 
what  he  has  to  say  ?  " 

He  heard  her  and  came  forward.  The  hand 
with  which  he  lifted  his  hat  shook.  Katharine 
drew  herself  away  from  him,  but  Sydney  stood 
her  ground. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  "  I  only  want  you 
to  give  Quin  a  message  from  me.  He  wrote 
to  me,  you  know,  to  tell  me  that  he  had 
Duncombe's  written  confession  of  the  part 
I'd  played  after  that  miserable  race,  but  didn't 
mean  to  publish  it,  or  show  me  up.  He's 
treating  me  a  long  way  better  than  I  treated 
him.  I  want  you  to  tell  him  that,  if  you 
will,  and  also  tell  him  that  he  won't  be  bothered 
by  me  any  more.  That  evening  I  left  St. 
Quentin  Castle  I  had  had  a  wire  to  tell  me  that 
I  was  practically  ruined.  The  man  of  business 
to  whom  I  had  pinned  my  faith — as  far  as  I 
ever  pinned  it  upon  anybody — had  taken  a  leaf 
out  of  my  book,  and  gone  in  for  gambling — 


THE    WAITING   OF   TWO  265 

speculation  rather.  When  he'd  finished  his 
own  money  he  used  mine,  relying  on  the 
fact  that  I  was  too  busy  screwing  poor  old 
Quin  to  attend  to  my  own  affairs.  Of  course 
he  thought  he'd  get  it  back  ;  they  always  do ! 
But  he  didn't,  and  the  shock  killed  him.  That 
was  what  the  wire  told  me,  and  it  was  that 
that  made  me  so  hard  on  Quin.  To  make  him 
pay  up  then  was  my  last  chance,  you  see  ;  but 
you  baulked  that !  You  won  the  game,  and 
I  drop  it  for  the  future.  I'm  going  abroad 
somewhere  now ;  tell  Quin  he's  done  with 
me  for  good  and  all,  and  I  have  sold  the 
watch  I  bought  for  you  to  pay  my  passage 
out.  Good-bye,  Miss  Lisle." 

"  I  will  tell  St.  Quentin,"  Sydney  answered 
gravely,  holding  out  her  hand.  "  Good-bye." 

Sir  Algernon  took  the  little  hand. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said  again,  then  added,  as 
though  half  against  his  will,  "After  all,  I'm 
not  particularly  sorry  that  you  won  the  game." 

He  walked  off  quickly  in  the  opposite 
direction,  and  passed  from  Sydney's  life  as 
suddenly  as  he  had  entered  it. 

"  I  hope  you  did  not  mind  my  speaking  to 
him,  Katharine,"  she  said,  as  the  two  went 
through  the  cool,  green,  peaceful  Close  together. 
41 1  could  not  have  done  it,  if — if — he  had 


266  SYDNEY1    LISLE 

not  been  so  shabby.  But  I  think  if — when  he 
gets  well,  and  we  tell  him,  that  St.  Quentin 
will  be  glad." 

"  I  believe  you  were  right,'*  Katharine  said 
quietly,  and  the  two  passed  into  the  Deanery 
together. 

A  great  hush  seemed  upon  everything,  and 
as  the  girls  sat  in  the  deep  window  of  the 
drawing-room  when  dinner  was  over,  the  whole 
world  seemed  to  wear  a  look  of  listening.  It 
was  one  of  those  wonderfully  mild  spring 
evenings  which  March  sometimes  gives  us  as 
a  foretaste  of  the  summer  that  is  coming. 
Katharine  let  the  fire  burn  low,  and  did  not 
close  the  window. 

There  was  no  breeze  to  stir  the  daffodils 
and  tulips,  which  had  lost  their  colour  in  the 
fading  of  the  light :  across  the  Close  the  grey 
Cathedral  stood  silent  and  solemn,  looking 
down  with  grave,  infinite  pity  upon  the  fleeting 
troubles  and  anxieties  of  the  people  living 
their  little  lives  around  its  walls. 

To  and  fro  across  the  shadowy  turf  the 
Dean  walked,  with  his  hands  behind  him,  deep 
in  thought.  The  soft,  sweet-scented  spring 
darkness  had  fallen,  but  Katharine  would  not 
ring  for  lights.  The  girls  sat  quietly  together, 
their  hands  clasped  in  the  dimness. 


THE   WAITING   OF   TWO  267 

Into  the  silence  came  the  mellow  chime  of 
the  cathedral  clock :  the  four  quarters,  which 
had  passed  while  they  were  sitting  there, 
pealed  out  one  after  another,  and  then  the 
nine  deep  strokes  of  the  hour. 

"  There  must  be  news  of  some  kind  by 
now,"  Sydney  cried. 

It  was  too  dark  to  see  her  companion's  face, 
and  Katharine  did  not  answer  her. 

Hard  upon  her  words  there  came  a  sound 
of  quick,  sharp  footsteps  ringing  out  upon  the 
flagged  path  running  through  the  Close.  The 
Dean  raised  his  head  and  stood  still. 

"  Canon  Molyneux  returning,"  Katharine 
said,  but  she  rose,  with  a  strained  expectancy 
in  her  position. 

The  steps  came  nearer.  Sydney  darted  down 
the  stairs,  and  was  flinging  back  the  heavy 
front  door  in  a  moment.  "  Hugh  !  " 

"  Sir  Anthony  thinks  he  is  going  to  pull 
round !  "  was  all  Hugh  said. 

Katharine  had  followed  Sydney  to  the  hall, 
but  when  a  moment  later  the  girl  looked  round 
for  her,  she  had  gone. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

IN    THE    DEANERY   GARDEN 

KATHARINE  MORRELL  sat  in  a  sheltered  nook 
in  the  Deanery  garden,  all  flooded  with  the 
mellow  sunshine  of  an  April  afternoon. 

The  trim,  box-edged  garden  beds  were  gay 
with  spring  flowers,  and  the  air  was  full  of 
the  song  of  birds  and  of  the  faint,  sweet,  sleepy 
scent  of  the  poplar. 

Before  her  the  great  grey  cathedral  reared 
its  mighty  pile  against  a  sky  of  pale,  pure 
blue,  relieved  by  clouds  of  fleecy  whiteness. 
Pigeons  were  sunning  themselves  here  and 
there  on  some  projecting  buttress,  or  in  some 
quaintly-carved  niche.  The  whole  world 
seemed  full  of  peace  and  hope  and  life  re- 
newed. 

Katharine's  hat  was  on  the  grass  beside 
ner,  and  the  soft  spring  breeze  lightly  stirred 
the  fair  hair  on  her  smooth,  white  brow,  and 

268 


IN  THE  DEANERY  GARDEN        269 

brought  a   touch   of  pure  rose   colour  to  her 
fair  face. 

On  her  knee  there  lay  an  opened  letter  in 
Sydney's  hand-writing.  She  took  it  up  and 
read  the  last  page  through  again. 

"  It  is  so  good  to  see  St.  Quentin  walk 
across  the  room,  even  though  still  leaning 
on  a  stick.  Dr.  Lorry  says  he  is  making  a 
most  marvellous  recovery,  and  Sir  Anthony, 
who  has  been  down  to  the  Castle  twice  since 
the  operation,  is  delighted  with  him.  Sir 
Anthony  said  several  ever  such  nice  things 
about  Hugh ;  I  wish  father  could  have  heard 
him.  He  would  have  been  so  pleased. 

"  St.  Quentin  actually  went  yesterday  to  see 
that  poor  man  Duncombe,  who  has  come 
down  here  to  live  with  his  mother.  He  is 
to  do  light  work  in  the  gardens  as  soon  as 
he  is  strong  enough.  He  was  so  pleased  to 
see  St.  Quentin,  and  he  could  not  say  enough 
about  Hugh's  kindness  to  him  while  he  was 
at  the  Blue-friars  Hospital.  He  seems  a 
nice  man,  and  is  terribly  sorry  for  all  the 
harm  which  he  has  done  St.  Quentin,  though 
St.  Quentin  tells  him  '  not  to  think  about  it 
any  more.' 

"  This  morning  we  have  been  to  call  upon 
the  Vicar.  St.  Quentin  walked  all  round  the 


2/0  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Vicarage  garden  to  look  at  Mr.  Sea  ton's 
hyacinths,  and  was  not  over-tired.  Doesn't 
that  sound  like  being  really  better? 

"He  talks  of  driving  in  to  Donisbro'  to 
thank  the  Dean  for  his  kind  enquiries." 

It  was  this  last  sentence  that  Katharine 
read  again  and  again,  with  a  light  in  her 
eyes  and  a  flush  upon  her  cheek. 

"  He  talks  of  driving  in  to  Donisbro'  to 
thank  the  Dean  for  his  kind  enquiries." 

Bees  hummed  in  and  out  among  the  flowers, 
with  their  peculiar  sound  of  infinite  content- 
ment ;  along  the  sunny  borders  the  yellow 
Aeads  of  the  daffodils  were  nodding  gently 
in  the  breeze.  Katharine  thought  she  had 
never  known  the  garden  look  so  lovely — 
never  since  that  spring  day  nine  long  years 
ago,  when  her  father  brought  Lord  Lisle,  as 
St.  Quentin  had  been  called  then,  into  it  for 
the  first  time. 

Nine  years — was  it  really  nine  years  since 
that  April  afternoon  when  she  had  gone  out 
to  gather  daffodils  to  fill  the  vases  in  the 
drawing-room  ? 

She  was  eighteen  then,  and  dressed  in  a 
gown  of  pale  green,  she  remembered.  Her 
father  had  a  fancy  for  green  and  loved  to  see 
her  in  it. 


IN  THE  DEANERY  GARDEN        271 

She  remembered  how  the  tall  young  man 
at  the  Dean's  side  had  looked  at  that  young 
Katharine  of  nine  years  ago,  and  how  presently 
they  were  walking  side  by  side  along  the 
straight  flagged  garden  paths,  he  carrying 
her  bunch  of  daffodils. 

What  had  they  said  ?  Nothing  very  much, 
she  fancied.  They  talked  about  the  flowers, 
and  he  spoke  of  his  mother's  famous  orchids 
at  St.  Quentin  Castle,  and  said  how  much 
he  should  like  the  Dean  and  Miss  Morrell 
to  see  them. 

Nine  years  ago;  but  she  could  recall  every 
line  of  the  tall  young  figure,  with  handsome 
head  erect,  and  eyes  that  said  so  much.  She 
could  even  bring  back  to  her  memory  the 
very  look  of  the  strong,  shapely  hand  that 
held  the  daffodils — her  daffodils. 

Had  not  daffodils  been  the  flowers  she 
loved  best  ever  since — yes,  ever  since  !  though 
she  had  tried  to  think  she  hated  them  upon 
a  certain  day  five  years  ago  when  she  had 
burnt  a  little  dried-up  bunch  of  them  which 
for  four  years  had  lain  among  her  treasures. 

Had  a  spring  and  daffodil  time  ever  come 
and  gone  through  all  these  nine  years  that 
she  had  not  thought  of  the  tall  figure  and 
the  handsome  face,  and  of  the  grey  eyes 


272  SYDNEY    LISLE 

that  looked  at  her  more  often  than  the  flowers 
he  had  come  to  see  ? 

A  rather  faltering  step  was  upon  the  flagged 
path  skirting  the  close-shaven  lawn.  Katharine 
looked  up. 

He  was  there  before  her,  the  man  of  whom 
she  had  been  thinking — the  same,  yet  not  the 
same.  There  was  little  to  remind  her  of  the 
gay  young  lover  of  nine  years  ago,  except 
the  eyes,  which  looked  forth  from  the  worn 
face  with  the  old  expression  in  them — the 
old  expression  she  remembered  so  well,  only 
deepened  and  intensified. 

"  Katharine  ! "  said  Lord  St.  Quentin. 

She  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment.  "  You 
should  not  be  standing!  Take  my  arm.  Here 
is  an  easy  chair  for  you." 

He  sank  into  the  chair  she  had  drawn 
forward  ;  she  sat  down  quietly  at  his  side. 

Around  them  hyacinths  were  springing 
everywhere  about  the  grass — it  was  a  fancy 
of  the  Dean's  to  grow  them  so,  instead  of  in 
the  garden  beds.  The  air  seemed  filled  with 
their  rare  fragrance. 

Under  the  grey  line  of  the  old  Deanery 
ran  a  border  bright  with  golden  daffodils. 

"You  stood  there  when  I  saw  you  first," 
St.  Quentin  said.  "  You  were  outlined  against 


IN  THE  DEANERY  GARDEN        273 

the  grey  wall  in  your  pale  green  gown,  and 
you  held  a  bunch  of  daffodils  in  one  hand. 
You  wore  no  hat,  and  the  breeze  was  stirring 
your  hair  on  your  temples  as  it  is  to-day." 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  head  with  a  nervous 
gesture  quite  unusual  with  her. 

"  Nine  years  ago,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
changed." 

"  And  I  have  changed  more,"  he  answered 
gravely.  "  Katharine,  look  at  me." 

She  looked  as  he  bade,  almost  timidly,  at 
the  thin  earnest  face  beside  her. 

"  You  know — you  must  know  why  it  is  I 
have  come  here  to  you  to-day,"  he  said,  his 
voice  vibrating  strangely.  "  Katharine !  I 
have  no  right  to  ask  or  expect  that  you  can 
care  for  me  still.  And  I  am  not  here  to  offer 
you  my  love ;  I  gave  it  to  you  nine  long  years 
ago,  and  you  have  had  it  ever  since.  I  have 
come  to  make  you  a  confession." 

He  told  the  story  of  his  selfishness  and 
folly — hiding  nothing.  She  listened  silently, 
her  head  bent,  her  hands  clasped  on  her 
knee. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  offer  you  what's  left 
from  the  wreck  I've  made  of  my  life,"  he 
concluded,  "  bat  my  love  is  yours — as  it  always 
has  been  since  that  first  spring  afternoon  I 


274  SYDNEY    LISLE 

saw  you,  as  it  always  must  be  through  life 
and  beyond  it." 

He  rose  slowly  from  his  chair,  leaning  upon 
his  stick. 

"  Thank  you  for  listening  to  me,  dear. 
Good-bye." 

She  came  swiftly  towards  him,  and  laid  her 
two  hands  upon  his  arm. 

"You  have  no  faith,"  she  said,  "though 
perhaps  I  hardly  deserve  that  you  should 
believe  in  my  love  after  that  cruel  letter  that  I 
wrote  five  years  ago.  St.  Quentin,  don't  you 
know  that  I  have  cared  always  ? — that  I  cared 
even  when  I  told  you  that  I  never  wished  to  see 
or  hear  of  you  again  ?  It  is  not  possible  to  give 
up  caring,  and,  dear,  I  care  more,  far  more  now, 
than  ever  I  cared  in  that  bright  spring  time 
long  ago.  Dear,  don't  you  understand  ?  " 

And  St.  Quentin  did. 

'*  I  don't  deserve  it,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "  but 
piease  God  you  sha'n't  regret  your  trust  and 
your  forgiveness." 

"  We  both  have  something  to  forgive,"  she 
said ;  and  then  he  caught  her  to  him  with  a 
murmured,  "My  darling!  my  darling!"  and 
there  fell  a  silence  on  the  two  in  the  flower- 
filled  garden,  flooded  with  the  mellow  sunshine 
of  that  April  afternoon.  And  overhead  a  full- 


IN  THE  DEANERY  GARDEN        275 

throited  thrush  broke  into  its  liquid  song — • 
a  song  which  was  so  wonderfully  full  of  glad- 
ness that  it  almost  seemed  as  though  it  spoke 
the  words  of  thankfulness  to  which  they  could 
not  give  voice. 

The  silver-haired  Dean  found  the  two  among 
the  hyacinths,  when  he  came  down  the  paved 
walk  an  hour  later,  and  was  filled  at  once 
with  kindly  solicitude  upon  his  guest's  behalf. 

"  My  dear  St.  Quentin,  it  is  most  delightful 
to  see  you  on  your  feet  again  ;  but,  my  dear 
boy,  what  rashness  to  come  all  the  way  to 
Donisbro'  so  soon !  What  was  your  doctor 
thinking  of?  What  could  possess  you  to  do 
anything  so  foolish  ?  " 

The  Marquess  wondered  vaguely  what  had 
been  the  reason  he  had  given  to  himself  and 
others  for  his  visit  to  Donisbro'.  Katharine, 
with  a  little  gleam  of  laughter  in  her  clear 
eyes,  came  to  his  assistance. 

"  St.  Quentin  came  to  return  thanks  in 
person  for  your  kind  enquiries,  father,"  she 
«»aid,  taking  the  old  man's  hands  in  both  hers. 
"  That  was  so,  wasn't  it,  St.  Quentin  ?  And 
while  he  was  here  he  thought  he  had  better 
tell  me  something  as  well." 

A  smile  of  understanding  broke  out  upon 
the  Dean's  benevolent  old  face. 


276  SYDNEY    LISLE 

"  Will  you  forgive  me,  sir,  and  trust  her 
with  me  ? "  said  St.  Quentin,  holding  out  his 
hand.  "  I  am  not  worthy  of  her,  but  with 
God's  help  I'll  try  to  do  my  best  to  be  so, 
and  to  make  her  happy.  Will  you  give  her 
to  me?" 

The  old  man's  warm  handclasp  was  suffi- 
cient answer,  and  made  the  hearty  words, 
"  With  all  my  heart,"  unnecessary.  And  he 
added,  as  he  drew  his  daughter  to  him,  kissing 
her  upon  the  forehead,  "  I  am  not  afraid  to 
trust  her  to  you  now,  St.  Quentin." 

"  Please  God,  you  shan't  regret  it,  sir,"  St. 
Quentin  said,  as  he  had  said  before  to 
Katharine,  and  the  three  went  toward  the 
Deanery  together  along  the  path  beside  the 
daffodil-filled  border. 

"  It  was  little  Sydney  who  sent  me  here 
to-day,"  St.  Quentin  said  to  Katharine,  as 
they  stood  a  moment  just  inside  the  low-browed, 
quaintly-carved  stone  porch  of  the  old  Deanery, 
looking  back  on  what  must  be  to  them  for 
evermore  an  enchanted  garden  ;  "  it  was  she 
whose  faith  in  love's  endurance  sent  me  here 
to-day  to  test  it,  Katharine.  God  bless  the 
child  for  that,  and  for  all !  " 

And  Katharine  echoed  from  her  heart,  "  Yes, 
God  bless  her ! " 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

A    HOME-COMING 

"  'Tis  May  without  and  May  within ! "  might 
well  have  been  Sydney's  song,  as  she  literally 
danced  along  the  Park  on  a  perfect  afternoon 
a  few  weeks  later. 

Though  she  and  Miss  Osric  had  been  up 
since  seven  o'clock,  the  day  had  seemed  all 
too  short  for  everything  she  wanted  to  crowd 
into  it. 

"  No  one  should  do  the  flowers  but  herself," 
she  declared,  and  Mackintosh  groaned  over 
the  ravages  she  made  in  "  his  conservatories  " 
and  "  his  gardens."  But  Miss  Lisle  was  a 
privileged  person  in  his  eyes,  so  his  groans 
were  only  inward,  and  he  actually  went  so 
far  as  to  walk  round  the  conservatories  with 
her,  cutting  what  she  wanted,  with  the  face 
of  a  martyr  at  the  stake ! 

"  Not  that    I    grudge    flowers  in  reason  to 

her  ladyship,"  he  explained,   "  but   what's   to 

277 


278  SYDNEY    LISLE 

become  of  my  flower-show  next  month,   miss, 
I  ask  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  won't  take  all  your  flowers,"  said 
Sydney  ;  "  but  surely,  Mackintosh,  you  want 
the  Castle  to  be  gay  as  much  as  I  do  when 
Lord  St.  Quentin  is  bringing  home  his  bride 
at  last!" 

"Well,  miss,  I'll  not  say  but  that  I  do 
rejoice  with  all  my  heart,"  the  old  man  said. 
"  And  a  fine  upstanding  ladyship  we  shall 
have,  says  I  !  I  mind  her  well  enough  when 
she  come  here  first  with  the  Dean,  and  looked 
at  my  flowers  for  all  the  world  as  if  they  were 
Christians,  and  understood  what  she  said  to 
'em.  '  Oh,  you  beauties  !  you  lovely  things  ! ' 
she  cried  as  she  comes  into  the  conservatories, 
as  his  lordship  he  was  showing  to  her.  No, 
miss,  I  don't  grudge  my  flowers,  in  reason — 
not  to  you  or  to  her  ladyship ! " 

The  wedding  had  taken  place  very  quietly 
a  fortnight  ago.  Both  Katharine  and  St. 
Quentin  felt  that  they  had  waited  long  enough 
for  the  happiness  that  had  so  nearly  never 
come  at  all.  They  were  married  early  one 
morning,  in  one  of  the  little  side  chapels  of 
the  great  cathedral,  by  Katharine's  white- 
haired  father,  with  only  Sydney  and  the  little 
cousin  Sylvia  present,  and  old  Dr.  Lorry, 


A    HOME-COMING  279 

who  insisted  upon  coming,  to  see  how  his 
patient  got  through  the  ceremony.  There 
were  so  few  relations  upon  either  side  to 
come,  even  if  the  health  of  the  bridegroom 
had  been  fit  for  anything  but  the  quietest  of 
weddings.  St.  Quentin  asked  Lady  Frederica 
to  be  present  from  a  sense  of  duty,  but  was 
neither  surprised  nor  disappointed  when  she 
wrote  to  explain  it  was  impossible  to  expect 
her  to  attend  a  wedding  which  was  fixed  for 
so  unconscionably  early  an  hour,  but  she  sent 
her  best  wishes  to  them  both.  She  also  sent 
a  handsome  wedding  present,  for  which  the 
bill  came  in  afterwards  to  St.  Quentin.  So 
there  were  only  those  few  there  to  hear  the 
words  that  made  Katharine  and  St.  Quentin 
man  and  wife  at  last.  The  honeymoon  had 
been  passed  in  a  health-giving  cruise  on  the 
Mediterranean,  and  now  they  were  to  come 
home. 

Lady  Frederica  had  never  returned  to  the 
Castle  after  St.  Quentin's  operation,  and  it 
cannot  be  said  that  her  nephew  missed  her. 
He  invited  Mrs.  Chichester  to  come  and  stay 
with  Sydney  during  the  period  of  his  con- 
valescence, and  inwardly  determined,  as  he  saw 
the  delight  with  which  the  girl  showed  all  her 
favourite  haunts  to  "  mother,"  that  she  should 

iS 


280  SYDNEY    LISLE 

have  at  least  the  female  portion  of  the  house 
of  Chichester  to  stay  with  her  as  often  as  she 
liked.  In  fact,  Katharine  had  already  expressed 
her  intention  of  being  great  friends  with  them 
all. 

But  Mrs.  Chichester  had  gone  back  to 
London  now,  and  for  the  fortnight  of  the 
honeymoon  Miss  Osric  and  Sydney  had  been 
alone,  and  had  certainly  made  good  use  of 
their  time  in  the  business  of  arranging  a 
welcome  for  St.  Quentin  and  his  bride. 

The  Castle  was  ablaze  with  flowers  and 
the  air  ablaze  with  sunshine,  as  Sydney,  her 
labours  finished,  but  too  excited  to  sit  still  and 
wait,  went  dancing  onward  through  the  Park 
and  out  into  the  village,  where  the  hedges 
were  fast  breaking  into  the  bridal  white  of 
hawthorn  blossom.  Miss  Osric,  as  soon  as 
all  the  work  was  finished,  had  discreetly  be- 
taken herself  to  the  Vicarage,  leaving  the  girl 
to  welcome  Katharine  and  her  cousin  alone. 

It  was  four  o'clock  :  they  would  hardly  be 
here  for  another  quarter  of  an  hour,  Sydney 
thought  to  herself,  and  she  slackened  her 
pace  and  looked  upward  at  the  gorgeous 
decorations  with  which  the  little  village  was 
aflame. 

The  children  were  all  drawn  up  in  a  body 


A   HOME-COMING  28 1 

on  the  village  green,  under  the  charge  of  the 
schoolmistress,  and  armed  with  little,  tight, 
hard  bunches  of  flowers,  to  cast  before  the 
happy  pair.  Most  of  the  tenantry,  the  farmers 
on  horseback,  were  waiting  at  the  top  of  the 
village  at  the  turning  on  the  Dacreshaw  road. 
Some  few  of  the  women,  however,  were  re- 
maining quietly  at  the  cottage  doors,  satisfied 
without  that  first  view  of  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom which  the  others  seemed  to  think  so 
desirable. 

Among  the  number  of  these  last  was  Mrs. 
Sawyer,  who,  with  a  healthy  colour  in  the 
face  that  used  to  look  so  sickly,  was  standing 
smiling  at  the  neat  white  gate  of  her  new 
cottage. 

Sydney  paused  to  shake  hands  with  her 
and  ask  if  everything  in  the  new  cottage  were 
entirely  satisfactory. 

"  Why,  that  it  is,  miss,"  was  the  hearty 
response,  "  if  it  weren't  for  just  a  little  leakage 
in  the  boiler.  But  there,  miss,  I've  no  call 
to  complain,  for  indeed  I  scarcely  know  myself 
with  my  beautiful  tiled  kitchen,  as  is  almost 
too  good  to  use,  and  my  back-kitchen  as  is 
fit  for  duchesses  to  work  in,  and  all  the  rest 
as  "is  lordship  'as  done  for  me  Reckon  that 
there  boiler  is  my  crumpled  rose-leaf,  miss  !  " 


282  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Mrs.  Sawyer  was  so  serious  that  Sydney 
felt  it  would  not  do  to  laugh,  though  the 
description  of  the  large  black  boiler  as  "  a 
rose-leaf"  made  the  corners  of  the  mouth 
twitch  ominously. 

She  volunteered  to  come  and  look  at  it, 
and  was  bending  down  to  examine  the 
defective  tap,  when  a  roar  of  distant  cheering 
made  both  forget  the  leaking  boiler  and  rush 
wildly  to  the  door.  "  They  are  coming !  " 

Round  the  bend  in  the  road,  under  the  great 
arch  wreathed  with  flowers  and  bearing  the 
inscription,  "  Welcome  to  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom," bowled  the  carriage.  There  they  were  ! 

St.  Quentin,  still  very  thin,  but  upright,  hat 
in  hand,  smiling  and  nodding  to  his  tenants 
as  they  roared  their  welcome,  and  by  his  side 
Katharine,  fair  and  stately,  unchanged,  except 
that  the  sadness  had  passed  from  her  eyes. 

Sydney  ran  forward,  and  the  carriage 
stopped. 

"  Hullo !  what  are  you  doing  wandering 
about  alone  ?  "  St.  Quentin  asked,  laughing, 
when  they  had  exchanged  greetings.  "  Lucky 
for  you  Aunt  Rica  isn't  here !  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  trying  to  make  out  what  is  wrong 
with  Mrs.  Sawyer's  boiler,"  she  explained;  "it 
leaks." 


A    HOME-COMING  283 

The  marquess  said  something  in  a  low  tone 
to  his  wife,  jumped  down,  handed  her  from  the 
carriage,  and  turned  to  Greaves,  wooden  with 
surprise  upon  the  box,  at  this  extraordinary 
conduct  on  the  part  of  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom. 

"  Drive  on,  Greaves;  we'll  walk  up  presently. 
Now,  Mrs.  Sawyer,  let's  have  a  look  at  the 
boiler." 

"You  could  have  knocked  me  down  with 
a  feather ! "  Mrs.  Sawyer  was  wont  to  say 
when  dilating  on  the  story  afterwards.  "  For 
in  they  all  come,  as  sure  as  I'm  a  living 
woman !  and  down  goes  his  lordship  on  his 
knees,  as  interested  in  that  boiler  as  if  it  was 
a  newspaper  full  of  the  quarrellings  of  that 
there  silly  Parliament,  and  turns  the  tap  about, 
and  then  jumps  up  and  looks  about  to  see 
if  the  workmen  had  left  any  putty,  and  as 
pleased  as  may  be  when  he  finds  it,  and 
down  on  his  knees  again — and  thankful  I  was 
as  I'd  scrubbed  the  floor  only  that  morning — 
and  makes  as  neat  a  job  of  it  as  may  be,  just 
to  last  till  the  plumber  comes  to  do  it  proper,  he 
says ;  and  full  of  jokes  all  the  time  he  was, 
as  made  me  laugh  till  I  cried  nearly  ! 

"  And  her  ladyship  sitting  by,  in  my  best 
chair,  and  nursing  Liza's  baby,  as  though  she 


284  SYDNEY    LISLE 

fair  loved  to  have  it  on  her  knee ;  and  our 
young  lady,  bless  her !  looking  as  bright  and 
happy  as  though  her  world  was  just  made 
of  spring  and  sunshine,  as  I  hopes  it 
may  be ! 

"  And  his  lordship  made  a  rare  good  job  of 
the  boiler  too,"  she  would  add,  as  though 
anybody  had  presumed  to  doubt  his  powers  as 
a  plumber,  "and  washed  his  hands  in  the 
back  kitchen  when  he  finished,  and  dried  'em 
on  the  round  towel,  not  a  bit  proud,  and  when 
he  knocks  his  'ead  against  the  lintel  going  out, 
he  laughs  again,  and  says,  says  he — *  Fane 
must  make  my  tenants'  doors  a  little  higher,' 
says  he,  '  for  I  mean  there  to  be  room  for 
me  to  come  in,'  he  says." 

The  three  walked  together  through  the 
Park  with  the  late  afternoon  sunshine  glittering 
on  the  glory  of  fresh  green  beneath  and 
overhead,  and  up  the  marble  steps  to  the 
splendid  castle  towering  above  them. 

As  they  reached  the  top,  St.  Quentin  raised 
his  hat,  and  took  a  hand  of  each. 

"  Welcome  home !  "  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

DESDICHADO 

IT  was  a  brilliant  June  morning  rather  more 
than  a  year  after  the  events  mentioned  in 
the  last  chapter. 

The  air  was  full  of  the  song  of  birds  and 
the  hum  of  bees,  and  of  another  sound  to 
which  Sydney  Lisle  was  listening,  as  she 
stood  upon  the  steps  of  the  Castle,  shading 
eyes  that  danced  joyfully  from  the  dazzling 
sunshine,  and  listening  to  the  pealing  of  the 
bells. 

They  were  plain  enough  from  Lislehurst 
Church  across  the  Park,  but  she  could  dis 
tinguish,  mingling  with  these,  the  more  distant 
peal  from  Loam,  and  even,  she  thought, 
Marston's  little  tinkling  duet  from  its  two 
cracked  bells,  which  were  being  pulled  with 
a  goodwill  that  went  far  to  atone  for  their 

lack  of  music. 

285 


286  SYDNEY    LISLE 

The  glory  of  "  leafy  June,"  that  queen  of 
months,  was  upon  the  tall  trees  of  the  Park, 
among  which  presently  the  girl  went  wander- 
ing. How  wonderful  a  world  it  was  to-day ! 
She  felt  as  though  she  wanted  to  drink  in  the 

o 

beauty  around  her. 

The  sunshine  came  flickering  through  the 
trees,  making  a  chequer  of  light  and  shade 
upon  the  grassy  path  before  her  ;  in  front  the 
softly  dappled  deer  were  feeding  peacefully, 
undisturbed  by  her  approach. 

"Pang — pang — pang — pang — pang — pang — 
pang — pang  ! "  went  the  bells,  and  Sydney 
smiled  in  sympathy  with  that  wonderful  abandon- 
ment of  joy  which  only  bells  can  give. 

The  girl  made  a  charming  picture  as  she 
stood  there  on  the  soft  grass,  with  the  mighty 
trees  she  loved  so  well  towering  in  their 
grandeur  overhead,  and  the  sunshine  flickering 
through  the  leaves  upon  her  white  gown  and 
sweet  face. 

She  was  good  to  look  upon  indeed  in  her 
dainty  gown,  with  a  great  bunch  of  yellow 
roses  at  her  belt,  and  that  flush  upon  her  cheek 
and  sun  of  gladness  in  her  eyes.  She  might 
have  stood  for  an  embodiment  of  the  sweet 
young  summer  which  was  making  the  world 
good  to  dwell  in. 


DESDICHADO  287 

So  at  least  thought  a  young  man,  who,  catch- 
ing through  the  trees  a  glimpse  of  her  white 
dress,  had  left  the  road  and  cut  across  the 
Park  toward  her.  As  he  came  near  his  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  her  earnest  face,  raised  to  the 
glory  of  sight  and  sound  above.  She  did  not 
hear  his  footsteps  till  he  was  quite  close  to  her ; 
then  she  sprang  to  meet  him  with  a  low  cry 
of  delight. 

"  Oh,  Hugh  !  have  you  heard  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  heard  at  Donisbro'  and  came 
straight." 

Something  new  in  his  voice  brought  a  sudden 
flush  to  the  delicately  tinted  face.  Her  eyes 
fell  before  his  eager  ones. 

"  Come  into  the  gardens,"  she  said,  turning, 
and  the  two  went  wandering  together  in  a 
strange  silence  over  the  cool  turf  of  the  bowling 
green  where  King  Charles  I.  had  once  played 
at  his  favourite  game  with  a  loyal  Lisle  of 
old,  a  Sydney  too. 

The  balmy,  fragrant  air  was  filled  with  the 
clang  of  bells  ;  beyond  the  Park  they  were 
beginning  to  cut  hay  in  the  long  meadows 
sloping  upwards  towards  the  grey -green  downs. 
A  great  bush,  covered  with  the  little  yellow 
roses  Sydney  wore,  smiled  up  at  the  two 
who  stood  before  it. 


288  SYDNEY   LISLE 

"Pang — pang-pang-pang — pang — pang-pang- 
pang  ! "  went  the  bells. 

"  They  ring  with  goodwill,"  Hugh  said,  with 
a  smile. 

"They  are  very  glad,"  said  Sydney,  "and 
oh,   Hugh,  I  wonder  whether  anybody  on  the 
whole  estate  is  more  glad  than  I  am !  " 

And  then  Hugh  turned  and  caught  her  hands 
and  said,  with  an  odd  break  in  his  voice, 
"  Syd,  are  you  really?" 

She  looked  straight  up  at  him,  and  he 
knew  that  she  had  spoken  truth. 

"If  you  are,  what  must  I  be!"  he  cried. 
"  My  darling,  you  don't  know,  you  can't 
know  what  this  means  to  me ! " 

His  voice  broke  suddenly. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said.  But  I  think  she  under- 
stood without  telling. 

Later,  as  the  two  sat  together  on  the  grassy 
bank  bordering  the  bowling  green,  the  girl 
said,  "  Do  you  know,  I  think  we  ought  to 
be  grateful  to  St.  Quentin  for  taking  me  away 
from  home  and  all  of  you.  It  was  very,  very 
hard  to  give  up  my  brother  Hugh,  but  this 
is  better!" 

"  It  is,"  Hugh  said,  with  absolute  conviction. 

"  Pang — pang-pang-pang  —  pang-pang-pang- 
pang!"  went  the  bells,  tripping  one  another  up 


DESDICHADO  289 

in  their  haste  to  clang  out  the  glad  tidings  of 
the  birth  of  an  heir  male  to  the  great  St. 
Quentin  title  and  estates. 

But  Sydney  had  come,  in  those  few  quiet 
minutes  in  the  garden,  into  a  far  greater 
heritage  than  that  of  which  the  little  heir's  birth 
had  deprived  her ! 

A  tall  figure  with  brown  hair  touched  with 
grey  about  the  temples  was  coming  down  the 
path  towards  the  bowling  green.  Sydney 
sprang  to  her  feet  and  went  to  meet  him,  Hugh 
following  her  closely. 

Lord  St.  Quentin  too  was  listening  to  the 
bells,  with  a  smile  upon  the  face  that  had 
nearly  lost  its  cynical  expression.  "  But  I 
feel  almost  as  if  the  little  beggar  were  doing 
you  an  injury,  Sydney,"  he  said,  laying  his 
hand  upon  the  girl's  slight  shoulder  as  she 
joined  him. 

"  You  are  not  to  say  that ! "  she  cried. 
"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  one  more  glad  and 
happy  than  I  am  to-day?  Oh,  St.  Quentin, 
if  you  only  knew  how  glad  I  am  to  be  dis- 
inherited ! " 

He  looked  down  at  her  glowing  face,  then 
turned  from  hers  to  Hugh's.  The  light  of 
comprehension  dawned  in  his  eyes. 

"  Upon  my  word ! "  he  exclaimed  as  sternly 


2QO 


SYDNEY    LISLE 


as  he  could.  "  What  mischief  have  you  two 
been  doing  now  ?  " 

"  Well,"  Sydney  said  audaciously,  looking 
up  into  his  face,  that  she  had  grown  so  fond 
of,  "  you  see,  you  forbade  me  to  look  upon 
Hugh  as  a  brother  any  longer — and — and  I 
always  try  to  obey  you." 

"  When  I  heard  at  Donisbro*  this  morning 
that  she  was  safely  out  of  the  succession,  I 
couldn't  wait,"  Hugh  said.  "  There  was  just 
time  to  catch  the  next  train,  and  I  caught  it !  " 

The  corners  of  St.  Quentin's  mouth  twitched, 
and  after  one  or  two  attempts  to  look  serious, 
he  gave  it  up  and  laughed  outright. 

"  You  are  a  nice  pair ! "  he  said.  '«  If  it 
weren't  for  the  fact  that  Katharine  is  sure  to 
be  upon  the  side  of  true  love,  and  that  you, 
Sydney,  always  insist  upon  your  own  way,  I'd 
play  the  stern  guardian,  and  send  Master  Hugh 
to  the  right-about !  " 

"  But  of  course  you  are  not  going  to  do 
anything  so  absolutely  horrid,"  Sydney  said 
with  confidence.  "  You're  going  to  take  him  in 
to  see  the  baby." 

"  It's  all  the  baby's  fault,"  grumbled  its 
father,  when  Hugh  had  been  presented  to  the 
red-faced,  crumpled,  kicking  object  who  was 
Lord  Lisle.  "  I  believe  I  bear  him  a  grudge. 


DESDICHADO  29 1 

You  would   have   made   a   first-rate  landlord, 
Sydney ! " 

"  I  never  should  have  made  a  marchioness," 
she  declared  with  much  decision.  "  Ask  Lady 
Frederica.  And  oh,  Quin,  don't  be  cross,  but 
be  glad  that  I  haven't  got  to  try ! " 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

CONCLUSION 

KATHARINE  sided  with  the  lovers,  as  her 
husband  had  foretold,  and  he  withdrew  his 
opposition. 

"Only,  how  do  you  intend  to  live?"  he 
enquired  one  day  of  Sydney,  as  she  sat  nursing 
the  little  heir  upon  her  knee. 

"  We  are  going  to  wait,  of  course,"  she  ex- 
plained, "till  Hugh  is  earning  rather  more, 
and  in  the  meantime  I  am  going  to  be  so  busy. 
I  shall  learn  cooking  and  housekeeping  and 
everything  useful  I  can  think  of,  and  then  it 
won't  matter  if  Hugh  and  I  are  not  so  very 
rich  at  first,  will  it  ?  " 

"  H — m,"  said  St.  Quentin.  "  You're  right 
about  not  being  in  a  hurry.  Katharine  and 
I  can't  do  without  you  yet.  But,  you  ridiculous 
little  goose !  has  it  never  struck  you  that  there 
are  such  things  as  wedding  presents — and  as 
marriage  settlements  ?  Look  here,  old  Lorry 

wants  to  retire,  if  he  can  get  a  good  offer  for 

292 


CONCLUSION  293 

his  practice.  It's  a  first-rate  one,  you  know, 
and  it  appears  your  Hugh  won  golden  opinions 
here  at  the  time  of  the  fever.  Lorry  thinks 
if  he  were  to  come  down  and  work  in  with 
him  a  little,  the  youngster  would  be  received 
with  enthusiasm  by  the  patients  when  he 
himself  cuts  the  concern.  If  your  Hugh  likes 
the  notion,  I'll  buy  the  practice  for  him  and 
set  you  up  in  Lorry's  house,  which  you  can 
have  rent  free,  of  course.  How  would  that 
suit  you  as  a  wedding  present  ?  You  see,  old 
Lorry  means  to  retire  on  Donisbro',  where 
some  of  his  own  people  hang  out. 

"It's  a  nice  enough  house  and  handy  to 
the  Castle,  which  is  fortunate ;  for  even  if 
Katharine  and  I  would  allow  you  to  leave 
Lislehurst,  my  tenants  wouldn't.  So  if  this 
plan  suits  you  and  your  Hugh,  you  can  go  on 
with  your  work-parties  and  soup-kitchens  and 
all  the  rest  of  it,  and  you  and  Katharine  together 
see  what  you  can  do  towards  turning  me  into 
a  model  landlord.  What  do  you  say  to  that 
scheme,  eh  ?  " 

"  Hugh  come  here,  and  he  and  I  live  here 
for  always ! "  Sydney  cried.  "  Oh,  St.  Quentin, 
you  don't  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Then  you  like  the  notion  ?"  said  her  cousin 
with  a  pleased  smile. 


294  SYDNEY    LISLE 

•'Like  it!"  cried  Sydney.  "Why,  the  part 
of  being  married  that  I  minded  was  the  leaving 

you!" 

*  *  *  *  * 

Lord  Lisle  entertained  quite  a  large  party  at 
his  christening  feast. 

Mrs.  Chichester  was  there,  seeming  to  grow 
visibly  younger  in  the  freedom  from  household 
cares,  and  rapidly  finding  a  congenial  spirit  in 
Katharine,  and  Dolly,  very  happy  to  be  with 
Sydney  again,  and  Fred  and  Prissie,  who  in 
spite  of  some  natural  disappointment  at  finding 
no  merry-go-rounds  in  St.  Quentin's  Park, 
managed  to  enjoy  themselves  exceedingly,  with 
the  ecstatic  joy  of  London  children  in  the 
country. 

And  Lord  Braemuir  was  there,  burly  and 
good-natured  as  ever,  and  most  hearty  in  his  con- 
gratulations both  to  Hugh  and  St.  Quentin,  and 
Mr.  Fenton,  absolutely  beaming,  and  looking 
with  a  nervous  interest  at  the  baby,  whom  he 
liked  very  much,  he  explained,  "  at  a  distance." 

And  Hugh  was  there,  with  Dr.  Lorry, 
whose  door  already  bore  the  brass  inscription, 

DR.  GUSTAVUS  LORRY. 
DR.  HUGH  CHICHESTER. 

And     Mr.     Seaton     was    there,     looking     as 


CONCLUSION  295 

though  all  his  cares  had  rolled  away  with  the 
coming  of  the  bright-faced  bride  on  his  arm, 
who  made  all  the  better  housekeeper,  he  used 
to  say  proudly,  for  knowing  as  much  Greek 
as  he  did  himself. 

And  Pauly  was  there,  but  in  no  very  sociable 
frame  of  mind,  for  he  ignored  everyone  but 
Freddie,  the  length  of  whose  nine-year-old 
legs  filled  him  with  awe  and  admiration.  He 
refused  to  even  look  at  the  baby,  but  kept 
his  round  eyes  fixed  on  Freddie,  who  patronised 
him  in  a  way  that  amused  the  looker-on 
considerably. 

Both  boys,  however,  managed  to  do  full 
justice  to  the  splendid  christening  cake,  on 
which  Mrs.  Fewkes  had  expended  her  utmost 
pains  and  skill.  Indeed,  Pauly  very  decidedly 
made  up  for  his  abstinence  upon  that  cele- 
brated fifth  birthday. 

And  old  Mr.  H udder  was  there,  rather  prosy 
but  extremely  happy,  and  never  more  so  than 
when  St.  Quentin  asked  his  "oldest  tenant" 
to  propose  the  health  of  the  son  and  heir. 

"  My  Lord,  Your  Ladyship,  and  Ladies  and 
Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "man  and  boy  I've 
held  my  farm  under  the  Marquesses  of  St. 
Quentin.  They've  been  good  landlords  to  me, 
and  I've  been  a  good  tenant  to  them.  My 

19 


296  SYDNEY    LISLE 

Lord,  Your  Ladyship,  Ladies  and  Gentle- 
men, we  didn't  look  to  see  this  happy  day. 
All  of  us  standing  here  have  got  a  lot  to 
thank  God  for.  He  has  raised  up  his  lordship 
and  given  us  the  fine  strong  heir  as  we're 
thanking  Him  for  to-day.  I'll  not  deny  but 
that  we  looked  forward  to  seeing  the  young 
lady  that  we've  learned  to  love  reign  over 
us,  but  it  seems  she's  satisfied  with  the  woman's 
kingdom  that  is  hers  to-day.  God  bless  her! 
and  give  her  and  her  husband  that  is  to  be 
every  happiness,  and  the  same  to  you,  My 
Lord  and  Your  Ladyship.  And  in  the  name 
of  your  lordships'  tenants,  I  wish  a  long  and 
happy  life,  and  all  prosperity,  to  Sidney,  Lord 

Lisle." 

*  *  *  *  * 

That  was  indeed  a  happy  day,  but  there 
was  one  to  come  that  was  even  happier — the 
day  on  which  Sydney  Lisle  laid  down  her 
maiden  name  and  became,  what  she  had  always 
felt  herself,  a  Chichester. 

Lord  St.  Quentin  gave  the  bride  away. 
"  A  thing  which  I  am  bound  to  do  considering 
it  was  I  who  took  her  from  you,"  he  said, 
laughing. 

He  and  Hugh  were  good  friends  by  this 
time,  all  the  better  perhaps  for  having  begun, 


CONCLUSION  297 

as  the  famous  Mrs.  Malaprop  would  say, 
with  "  a  little  aversion,"  and  Hugh  did  not 
misunderstand  the  marquess  when  he  said — 
"  Sydney  used  to  annoy  me  by  insisting  upon 
being  three-parts  Chichester  when  I  wished 
her  to  be  all  Lisle :  now  it  is  my  turn  to 
insist  that  she  does  not  quite  forget  the  Lisle 
side,  when  she  is  a  Chichester  by  right." 

"  But  we  are  all  one  family  now,  aren't  we, 
Quin  ? "  Sydney  said  softly,  and  her  cousin 
did  not  contradict  the  statement. 

It  was  on  a  perfect  September  day,  with 
that  deeper  blue  in  the  clear  sky  and  wonderful 
freshness  in  the  air  which  summer's  end  brings 
with  it,  that  Sydney  was  married. 

As  on  that  first  morning  at  the  Castle  long 
ago,  she  rose  before  the  rest  of  the  household, 
and  went  out  into  the  Park,  where  diamond 
dew  lay  thick  and  the  hedges  sparkled  with 
jewelled  cobwebs. 

She  would  not  call  Dolly  to  come  with  her  : 
she  wanted  for  a  little  while  upon  this  happy 
morning  to  be  the  lonely  Sydney  again. 

But  there  was  little  to  recall  that  first  walk, 
as  she  stood  on  the  marble  steps  of  the  Castle 
and  looked  into  the  glory  of  September  sun- 
shine glittering  around  her. 

She  went  through  the  Park,  making  for  the 


298  SYDNEY   LISLE 

gap  in  the  hedge  she  knew  so  well,  and  drinking 
in  the  beauty  which  was  so  atune  with  her 
heart  to-day — the  dark-foliaged  trees,  the  up- 
land fields,  some  bare,  some  covered  still  with 
corn-sheaves,  stacked  in  kites,  as  the  Blank- 
shire  people  called  them — the  glitter  of  dew 
at  her  feet,  where  every  tiny  blade  ot  grass 
seemed  jewelled  in  the  sunshine. 

She  could  not  resist  one  peep  through  the 
mullioned  windows  of  the  quaint,  dark,  com- 
fortable, Queen  Anne  house,  furnished  through- 
out by  loving  hands  to  suit  the  girl's  taste. 
The  fittings  from  her  luxurious  rooms  in 
the  Castle  had  gone  with  her  to  this  new  home 
by  St.  Quentin's  wish,  and  the  beautiful  plate 
on  the  sideboard  spoke  eloquently  enough  of 
the  feeling  among  the  tenantry  of  the  estate 
for  "  our  young  lady." 

Mackintosh  had  filled  the  conservatory  with 
his  choicest  flowers,  and  Bessie  and  the  pair 
of  ponies  already  inhabited  the  roomy  stables. 
This  was  to  be  her  home  and  Hugh's.  Her 
home  and  Hugh's  ! — how  good  it  sounded  ! 

Her  eyes  shone  as  she  turned  into  the  road 
leading  into  the  village. 

How  different  all  was  from  that  first  walk, 
when  the  new  life  had  appeared  so  strange 
and  lonely,  and  home  so  terribly  far  away ! 


CONCLUSION  299 

Had  it  ever  seemed  possible  then  that  she 
would  come  to  love  Lislehurst  so  well,  could 
come  to  be  as  happy  there  as  she  was  to-day  ? 

At  the  gap  where  they  had  first  met  Pauly 
was  waiting,  with  a  basket  and  a  broad  smile 
of  satisfaction  on  his  round  chubby  face. 

"  Going  to  get  mushrooms,"  he  explained, 
submitting  to  her  kiss.  "  Muvver's  coming, 
and  daddy,  and  dear  Dr.  Hugh.  Come  too!  " 

"  Not  this  morning,  Pauly  dear,"  said  Sydney, 
"  but  another  morning  we  will  all  go  out  to- 
gether, won't  we,  and  have  a  good  time  ?  Now 
good-bye,  and  don't  forget  to  come  and  help 
us  eat  the  wedding  cake." 

"  Do  I  hear  you  pressing  wedding  cake 
on  Pauly  ?  "  observed  Pauly 's  father,  appearing 
at  the  moment,  also  armed  with  a  mighty 
basket.  "  Please  don't,  for  I  assure  you  it 
is  quite  unnecessary.  He  never  needs  much 
pressing,  do  you,  Pauly  ?  Miss  Lisle,  won't 
you  come  into  the  Vicarage  and  have  some 
milk  or  something,  in  memory  of  that  first 
visit  that  you  paid  us  ?  " 

"  When  I  missed  breakfast  altogether,  and 
had  such  a  scolding  from  Lady  Frederica  for 
paying  calls  upon  my  own  account,"  Sydney 
said,  laughing.  "No,  not  this  morning,  thank 
you,  Mr.  Seaton  :  I  must  hurry  home." 


300  SYDNEY    LISLE 

"  You're  not  afraid  of  a  scolding  now  ? " 
the  Vicar  asked  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  think  Katharine 
ever  learned  the  way  to  scold,  and  St.  Quentin 
has  forgotten  it." 

And  then  she  put  her  hand  on  the  Vicar's 
arm,  as  he  held  the  gate  open  for  her. 

"  Do  you  remember  our  talk  on  that  first 
morning  that  we  met,  and  how  you  told  me 
there  was  work  for  everyone  to  do,  if  they 
would  look  for  it  ?  I  don't  suppose  you  know 
how  much  that  helped  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  Vicar  with  a  smile, 
"  that  is  a  thing  it  does  one  good  to  hear. 
But  it  is  not  everyone  who  looks  to  such 
good  purpose  as  you  did." 

And,  as  Sydney  walked  rapidly  away,  he 
looked  after  her,  thinking  of  the  great  results 
which  had  followed  on  the  girl's  simple 
straightforward  performance  of  that  work 
she  found  to  do. 

He  thought  of  the  enormous  difference  to  be 
seen  in  the  villages  all  over  the  estate  ;  of  their 
owner,  honestly  striving  to  do  his  best  for 
the  people  whose  comfort  was  committed  to 
his  charge ;  of  the  happy  marriage  brought 
about  by  her  means,  and  he  did  not  wonder 
at  the  hearty  cheers  with  which  the  bride 


CONCLUSION  301 

was  received,  as  she  came  down  the  crimson- 
covered  churchyard  path  upon  her  cousin's 
arm. 

Sydney  flushed  with  pleasure :  it  was  very 
pleasant  to  feel  herself  surrounded  by  so  much 
affection  and  goodwill. 

"  I  am  so  very  glad  it  is  not  '  good-bye ' 
to  this  home,"  she  whispered  to  St.  Quentin  ; 
and  he  smiled,  well  pleased. 

She  had  her  own  way  about  the  wedding 
festivities,  and  all  the  tenants,  rich  and  poor 
alike,  were  feasted  in  the  Castle  grounds. 

It  was  a  day  long  remembered  through  the 
county,  and  any  doubt  the  tenants  may  have 
felt  as  to  Sydney's  perfect  pleasure  in  her 
dispossession  were  quite  swept  away  then  by 
the  sight  of  her  radiant  face. 

"  Our  young  lady,"  she  would  be  always 
to  the  Lislehurst  people,  but  they  plainly  saw 
that  she  was  happy  in  the  humbler  path  her 
feet  were  to  tread. 

"  She  looked  for  all  the  world  like  a  bit  of 
spring  and  sunshine,"  Mrs.  Sawyer  used  to 
say,  in  talking  of  that  happy  wedding  day, 
"and  Dr.  Hugh,  his  face  matched  hers  for 
gladness,  as  it  should.  God  bless  'em  both !  " 

It  was  a  bewilderingly  happy  day,  from  the 
moment  that  Sydney  put  her  hand  into  Hugh's 


302 


SYDNEY    LISLE 


strong  one,  where  she  could  so  safely  trust  her 
future,  to  that  in  which  Pauly,  after  some 
loudly  whispered  directions  from  old  Mr. 
Hudder,  marched  forward,  and  laid  in  Sydney's 
hand  the  lovely  little  gold  watch,  with  which 
she  had  parted  for  the  sake  of  her  poorer 
neighbours.  "  For  you,"  he  said  briefly. 

*'  A  testimony  of  respectful  affection  from 
his  lordship's  tenantry  in  Lislehurst  to  their 
young  lady,"  Mr.  Hudder  amended. 

"  And  I  gave  free  pennies  for  it,"  Pauly 
put  in. 

I  think  Sydney  nearly  cried  as  she  kissed 
the  little  boy  and  held  out  her  hand  to  Mr. 
Hudder. 

"  Thank  you,  and  thank  everybody,  oh,  so 
much  !  "  she  said. 

But  perhaps  the  very  best  moment  in  the 
whole  long  happy  day  was  that  in  which 
Sydney  Chichester  was  able  to  throw  her 
arms  about  the  neck  of  father  and  mother, 
and  call  herself  "  their  little  girl "  again. 


THE    END 


THE  CREAM  OF  JUVENILE  FICTION 

BOYS'  OWN 
LIBRARY^ 

A  Selection  of  the  Best  Books  for  Boys  by  the 
Most  Popular  Authors 

^^HE  titles  in  this  splendid  juvenile  series  have  been  selected 
\ZS  with  care,  and  as  a  result  all  the  stories  can  be  relied 
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kind  of  yarns  that  appeal  strongly  to  the  healthy  boy  who  is 
fond  of  thrilling  exploits  and  deeds  of  heroism.  Among  the 
authors  whose  names  are  included  in  the  Boys'  Own  Library 
are  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.,  Edward  S.  Ellis,  James  Otis,  Capt.  Ralph 
Bonehill,  Burt  L.  Standish,  Gilbert  Patten  and  Frank  H.  Con- 
verse. 


SPECIAL  FEATURES  OF  THE 
BOYS'  OWN  LIBRARY   *    j* 

All  the  books  in  this  series  are  copyrighted,  printed  on  good 
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150  Titles — Price,  per  Volume»  75  cents 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher, 

DAVID   McKAY, 

6JO  SO,  WASHINGTON  SQUAR^.  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 

0) 


HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr. 

One  of  the  best  known  and  most   popular  writers.     Good,  clean, 
healthy  stories  for  the  American  Boy. 

Adventures  of  a  Telegraph  Boy  Mark  Stanton 

Dean  Dunham  Ned  Newton 

Erie  Train  Boy,  The  New  York  Boy 

Five  Hundred  Dollar  Check  Tom  Brace 

From  Canal  Boy  to  President  Tom  Tracy 

From  Farm  Boy  to  Senator  "Walter  Griffith 

Backwoods  Boy,  The  Young  Acrobat 

C.  B.  ASHLEY. 

One  of  the  best  stories  ever  written  on  hunting,  trapping  and  ad- 
venture in  the  West,  after  tue  Custer  Massacre. 

Gilbert,  the  Boy  Trapper 


ASHMORE. 

A  splendid  story,  recording  the  adventures  of  a  boy  with  smugglers. 
Smuggler's  Cave,  The 

CAPX.  RALPH  BONEHIIJL. 

Capt.  Bonehill  is  in  the  very  front  rank  as  an  author  of  boys' 
stories.  These  are  two  of  his  best  works. 

Neka,  the  Boy  Conjurer  Tour  of  the  Zero  Club 

WAI/TER   F.  BRUNS. 

An  excellent  story  of  adventure  in  the  celebrated  Sunk  Lands  of 
Missouri  and  Kansas. 

In  the  Sunk  Lands 

FRANK  H.  CONVERSE. 

This  writer  has  es'.ablished  a  splendid  reputation  as  a  boys'  author, 
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Gold  of  Flat  Top  Mountain  In  Southern  Seas 

Happy-Go-Lucky  Jack  Mystery  of  a  Diamond 

Heir  to  a  Million  That  Treasure 

In  Search  of  An  Unknown  Kace  Voyage  to  the  Gold  Coast 

DAVID  McKAY,  Publisher,  Philadelphia. 

(ii) 


HARRY   COUUIXGWOGSS. 

One  of  England's  most  successful  writers  of  stories  for  boys.  Hig 
best  story  is 

Pirate  Island 

GEORGE  M.  COOMER. 

Two  books  we  highly  recommend.  One  is  a  splendid  story  of  ad- 
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Mountains  was  being  built. 

Boys  in  the  Forecastle  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain 


WILLIAM   DAI/TON. 

Three  stories  by  one  of  the  very  greatest  writers  for  boys.  The 
stories  deal  with  boys'  adventures  in  India,  China  and  Abyssinia, 
These  books  are  strongly  recommended  for  boys'  reading,  as  they  con- 
tain a  large  amount  of  historical  information. 

Tiger  Prince  "War  Tiger 

"White  Elephant 

EDWARD   S.  ELLIS. 

These  books  are  considered  the  best  works  this  well-known  write* 
ever  produced.  No  better  reading  for  bright  young  Americans. 

Arthur  Helmuth  Perils  of  the  Jungle 

Check  No.  2134  On  the  Trail  of  Geronimo 

From  Tent  to  "White  House  "White  Mustang 


GEORGE   MANVILLE   FEXX. 

For  the  past  fifty  years  Mr.  Fenn  has  l>een  writing  books  for  boya 
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Commodore  Junk  Golden  Magnet 

Dingo  Boys  Grand  Chaco 

"Weathercock 

EXSIGX   CLARKE   FITCH,  U.  S.  X. 

A  graduate  of  the  U.  S.  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis,  and  tho- 
roughly familiar  with  all  naval  matters.  Mr.  Fitch  has  devoted  him- 
self to  literature,  and  has  written  a  series  of  books  for  boya  that  every 

DAVID   McKAY,  Publisher,  Philadelphia. 

(iii) 


young  American  should  read.    His  stories  are  full  of  very  interesting 
information  about  the  navy,  training  ships,  etc. 

Bound  for  Annapolis  Cruise  of  the  Training  Ship 

Clif,  the  Naval  Cadet  From  Port  to  Port 

Strange  Cruise,  A 


MURRAY  GRAYDON. 

An  author  of  world-wide  popularity.  Mr.  Graydon  is  essentially  a 
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parts  of  the  world,  combined  with  accurate  historical  data. 

Butcher  of  Cawnpore,  The  In  Barracks  and  "Wigwam 

Camp  in  the  Snow,  The  In  Fort  and  Prison 

Campaigning  with  Braddock  Jungles  and  Traitors 

Cryptogram,  The  Bajah's  Fortress,  The 

Prom  Lake  to  "Wilderness  "White  King  of  Africa,  The 


FREDERICK  OARRISON,  U.  S.  A. 

Every  American  boy  takes  a  keen  interest  in  the  affairs  of  West 
Point.  No  more  capable  writer  on  this  popular  subject  could  be  found 
than  Lieut.  Garrison,  who  vividly  describes  the  life,  adventures  and 
unique  incidents  that  have  occurred  in  that  great  institution  —  in  these 
famous  West  Point  stories. 

Off  for  "West  Point  On  Guard 

Cadet's  Honor,  A  West  Point  Treasure,  The 

West  Point  Rivals,  The 


The  hunt  for  gold  has  always  been  a  popular  subject  for  considera- 
tion, and  Mr.  Hill  has  added  a  splendid  story  on  the  subject  in  this 
romance  of  the  Klondyke. 

Spectre  Gold 

HENRY  HARRISON  LEWIS. 

Mr.  Lewis  is  a  graduate  of  the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis,  and 
has  written  a  great  many  books  lor  boys.  Among  his  best  works  are 
the  following  titles  —  the  subjects  include  a  vast  series  of  adventures 
in  all  parts  of  the  world.  The  historical  data  is  correct,  and  they 
should  be  read  by  all  boys,  for  the  excellent  information  they  contain. 

Centreboard  Jim  Ensign  Merrill 

King  of  the  Island  Sword  and  Fen 

Midshipman  Merrill  Valley  of  Mystery,  The 

Yankee  Boys  in  Japan 


I>AVH>  McKAY,  Publisher,  Philadelphia. 

(iv) 


LIK17T.  LIONEL  LOUNSBERRY. 

A  series  of  hooka  embracing  many  adventures  under  our  famona 
naval  commanders,  and  with  our  army  during  the  War  of  1812  and 
the  Civil  "VVar.  Founded  on  sound  history,  these  books  are  written 
for  boys,  with  the  idea  of  combining  pleasilre  with  profit ;  to  cutivate 
a  fondness  for  study — especially  of  what  has  been  accomplished  by 
our  nrmy  and  navy. 

Cadet  Kit  Carey  Bandy,  the  Pilot 

Captain  Carey  Tom  Truxton's  School  Days 

Kit  Carey's  Protege  Tom  Truxton's  Ocean  Trip 

Lieut.  Carey's  Luck  Treasure  of  the  Golden  Crater 

Out  With  Commodore  Decatur  Won  at  "West  Point 


BROOKS  McCORMICK. 

Four  splendid  books  of   adventure  on  sea  and  land,  by  this  well- 
known  writer  for  boys. 

Giant  Islanders,  The  Nature's  Young  Wobleman 

How  He  'Won  Eival  Battalion* 


WAI/TER  MORRIS. 

This  charming  story  contains  thirty-two  chapters  of  just  the  sort  of 
school  life  that  charms  the  boy  readers. 

Bob  Porter  at  Lakeview  Academy 


SXA3VUEY  XORRIS. 

Mr.  Norris  is  without  a  rival  as  a  writer  of  "Circua  Stories"  for 
boys.  These  four  books  are  full  of  thrilling  adventures,  but  good, 
wholsome  reading  for  young  Americans. 

Phil,  the  Showman  Young  Showman's  Pluck,  Th« 

Young  Showman's  Rivals,  The       Young  Showman's  Triumph 


J^IEUT.  JAMES   K.  ORTON. 

When  a  boy  has  read  one  of  Lieut.  Orton's  books,  it  requires  no 
urging  to  induce  him  to  read  the  others.  Not  a  dull  page  in  any  of 
them. 

Beach  Boy  Joe  Secret  Chart,  The 

Last  Chance  Mine  Tom   Havens  with  the   White 

Squadron 

DAVID  McKAY,  Publisher,  Philadelphia. 

(v) 


JAMES  OTIS. 

Mr.  Otis  is  known  by  nearly  every  American  boy,  and  needs  no  in- 
troduction here.     The  following  copyrights  are  among  his  best : 

Chased  Through  Norway  Unprovoked  Mutiny 

Inland  Waterways  "Wheeling  for  fortune 

Eeuben  Green's  Adventures  at  Yale 


GILBERT  PATTEN. 

Mr.  Patten  has  had  the  distinction  of  having  his  books  adopted  b> 
the  U.  S.  Government  for  all  naval  libraries  on  board  our  war  ships. 
While  aiming  to  avoid  the  extravagant  and  sensational,  the  stories 
contain  enough  thrilling  incidents  to  please  the  lad  who  loves  action 
and  adventure.  In  the  Rockspur  stories  the  description  of  their  Base- 
ball and  Football  Games  and  other  contests  with  rival  clubs  and  teams 
make  very  exciting  and  absorbing  reading;  and  few  boys  with  warm 
blood  in  their  veins,  having  once  begun  the  perusal  of  one  of  these 
books,  will  willingly  lay  it  down  till  it  is  finished. 

Boy  Boomers  Jud  and  Joe 

Boy  Cattle  King  Rockspur  Nine,  The 

Boy  from  the  "West  Kockspur  Eleven,  The 

Don  Kirke's  Mine  Bockspur  Kivals,  The 


ST.  GfEORCE  RATMBORNE. 

Mr.  Rathborne's  stories  for  boys  have  the  peculiar  charm  of 
dealing  with  localities  and  conditions  wiih  which  he  is  thoroughly 
familiar.  The  scenes  of  these  excellent  stories  are  along  the  Florida 
coast  and  on  the  western  prairies. 

Canoe  and  Camp  Fire  Chums  of  the  Prairie 

Paddling  Under  Palmettos  Young  Bange  Riders 

Rival  Canoe  Boys  Gulf  Cruisers 

Sunset  Ranch  Shifting  "Winds 


ARTHUR  SEWELI.. 

An  American  story  by  an  American  author.  It  relates  how  a 
Yankee  boy  overcame  many  obstacles  in  school  and  out.  Thoroughly 
interesting  from  start  to  finish. 

Gay  Dashleigh's  Academy  Days 


DAVID  McKAY,  Publisher,  Philadelphia. 

(vi) 


CAPT.  DAVID  SOUTHWICK. 

An  exceptionally  good  story  of  frontier  life  among  the  Indiana  in 
the  far  West,  during  the  early  settlement  period. 

Jack  "Wheeler 

The  Famous  Frank  Merriwell  Stories. 

HURT  L.  STANDISM. 

No  modern  series  of  tales  for  boys  and  youths  has  met  with  any- 
thing like  the  cordial  reception  and  popularity  accorded  to  the  Frank 
Merriwell  Stories.  There  must  be  a  reason  for  this  and  there  is. 
Frank  Merriwell,  as  portrayed  by  the  author,  is  a  jolly  whole-souled, 
honest,  courageous  American  lad,  who  appeals  to  the  hearts  of  the 
boys.  He  has  no  bad  habits,  and  his  manlineas  inculcates  the  idea 
that  it  is  not  necessary  for  a  boy  to  indulge  in  petty  vices  to  be  a  hero. 
Frank  Merriwell'  s  example  is  a  shining  light  for  every  ambitious  lad 
to  follow.  Twenty  volumes  now  ready  : 

Frank  Merriwell's  School  Days     Frank  Merriwell's  Courage 
Frank  Merriwell's  Chums  Frank  Merriwell's  Daring 

Frank  Merriwell's  Foes  Frank  Merriwell's  Skill 

Frank  Merriwell's  Trip  "West         Frank  Merriwell's  Champions 
Frank  Merriwell  Down  South        Frank  Merriwell's  Return  to  Yale 
Frank  Merriwell's  Bravery  Frank  Merriwell's  Secret 

Frank  Merriwell's  Kaces  Frank  Merriwell's  Loyalty 

Frank  Merriwell's  Hunting  Tour  Frank  Merriwell's  Howard 
Frank  MerriwelFs  Sports  Afield   Frank  Merriwell's  Faith 
Frank  Merriwell  at  Yale  Frank  MerriwelFs  Victories 


VICTOR  ST. 

These  books  are  full  of  good,  clean  adventure,  thrilling  enough  to 
please  the  full-blooded  wide-awake  boy,  yet  containing  nothing  to 
which  there  can  be  any  objection  from  those  who  are  careful  as  to  the 
kind  of  books  they  put  into  the  hands  of  the  young. 
Cast  Away  in  the  Jungle  From  Switch  to  Lever 

Comrades  Under  Castro  Little  Snap,  the  Post  Boy 

For  Home  and  Honor  Zig-Zag,  the  Boy  Conjurer 

Zip,  the  Acrobat 

MATTHEW  WHITE,  JR. 

Good,  healthy,  strong  books  for  the  American  lad.     No  more  in- 
teresting books  for  the  young  appear  on  our  lists. 

Adventures  of  a  Young  Athlete  My  Mysterious   Fortune 

Eric  Dane  Tour  of  a  Private  Car 

Guy  Hammersley  Young  Editor,  The 

DAVID  McKAY,  Publisher,  Philadelphia. 

(vii) 


AR/THUR.  M.  WHVFIEI.D. 

One  of  the  most  popular  authors  of  boys'  books.  Here  are  three 
of  his  best. 

Mark  Dale's  Stage  Venture  Young  Bank  Clerk,  The 

Young  Bridge  Tender,  The 

GAYI^E  WINTER/TON. 

This  very  interesting  story  relates  the  trials  and  triumphs  of  a 
Young  American  Actor,  including  the  solution  of  a  very  puzzling 
mystery. 

Young  Actor,  The 


ERNEST  A.  YOUNG. 

This  book  is  not  a  treatise  on  sports,  as  the  title  would  indicate,  but 
relates  a  series  of  thrilling  adventures  among  boy  campers  in  the 
woods  of  Maine. 

Boats,  Bats  and  Bicycles 


I>AVED  McKAY,  Publisher,  Philadelphia. 

(viii) 


